


The Gift of Kindness

by hippocrates460



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A story about gifts, And talk about plants, M/M, Soulmates, Who defeat Evil together, like nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-05-06 21:14:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 105,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14656377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hippocrates460/pseuds/hippocrates460
Summary: When Harry arrives at Hogwarts, everything is overwhelming. Luckily he makes some friends, Hagrid who took him to Diagon Alley, Ron who he met on the train, and Severus, who explains why they have to pretend to hate each other.This story spans 7 years, during which Severus and Harry get to know each other and find understanding.





	1. Year 1 - Hot Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by the [The Seaside House](https://archiveofourown.org/series/39305) series. It's not necessary to have read it to understand this work, but I do recommend reading it in general!
> 
> Lovely [Lilian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilian/pseuds/Lilian), thank you for your help and enthusiasm <3

Harry spends the rest of the class trying not to get noticed, not to get called on, and to take as many notes as possible. The Boil-Cure potion he makes isn’t as pretty and clear looking as the one Malfoy makes, but it’s at least not melted the cauldron. Harry is feeling very worried. Potions is going to be hard and it seems he has already made the professor angry. When class is over, Ron and he pack their bags as quickly as possible, but before they can leave, professor Snape blocks their path.

“You will stay behind Mr. Potter,” he drawls. He towers over Harry, looking extra imposing with his large nose, black hair, black robes, black eyes. His skin looks vaguely yellow in the awful light of the dungeons. Ron squeaks something and professor Snape replies to him, “that will not be necessary Mr. Weasley, you will see Mr. Potter after lunch.”

Harry can feel his eyes stinging, his shoulders pulling up to his ears. Why is he being singled out like this? He doesn’t think a lot of people in the class knew the answer to all the questions the professor asked. Hermione, probably, maybe Malfoy but then his parents could’ve helped him learn. When everyone has left, professor Snape closes the classroom door, and motions for Harry to follow him to a door at the far end of the classroom. It leads to an office lined with jars that Harry doesn’t dare look at, but they pass through quickly, to another door. When they step into a cosy sitting room, Harry can’t help but stare in awe. It’s wonderful, with a warm fire crackling, a large carpet in the middle of the stone floor, comfortable looking furniture and more books than Harry has ever seen outside of a library. Harry’s stomach hurts. Do professors at Hogwarts make students write lines? Will he be hit? 

“Please take a seat, Mr. Potter,” the professor says, motioning to one of the armchairs. He seems different in here, his posture more relaxed. Harry knows better than to assume that means anything, so he keeps his head down, and does as he was told.

Professor Snape walks through an arch off the side of the fireplace to what looks like it might be a small kitchen and calls back to Harry. “Do you like hot chocolate?” 

“I’m not sure, sir,” Harry answers honestly. The professor makes a huffing sound that has Harry scoot back on the chair, until his feet don’t touch the ground anymore. He looks at his muddy sneakers and prays silently that he won’t get yelled at for getting the beautiful carpet dirty. He’s contemplating the carpet’s intricate patterns when he senses the professor stepping back into the room. He looks up to see professor Snape has shed his teaching robes as well as his black buttoned robes and has rolled up the sleeves of the white shirt he wears underneath. He’s holding two steaming mugs and has taken off his shoes at some point. As he makes his way over, Harry considers asking if he should take off his shoes too. Which brings him back to the carpet.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The professor asks, his tone suddenly gentle. Harry startles when he hears a _clunk_ as a mug is set down on the side table next to the chair he’s sitting in. Professor Snape sits down on the carpet in front of Harry and crosses his legs. He’s exactly in Harry’s field of vision now and Harry thinks it might be rude to look away. So he takes in the professor’s gleaming hair, which reflects the light from the fire, his dark eyes, which seem warm and kind like this. He shuffles back further into the chair, out of striking range, in case the professor decides to punish him for not knowing anything about potions.

“I’m sorry for what I said during class, for the way I behaved,” professor Snape says, making Harry squirm again. What could he say to that? The professor sets his mug down next to him on the carpet, takes a little black band from his wrist, and ties his hair up in a bun. It makes him look younger, less strict.

“Will you allow me to explain?” He says, and Harry nods a little.

“Please answer my questions, I can’t read your mind,” the professor says, his tone polite and warm. Harry knows not to disregard an order, no matter the tone, so he quickly says: “Yes, sir.”

The professor looks startled, pinches the bridge of his nose briefly, then comes to some conclusion. He holds out his right hand, “allow me to start over.” 

Harry takes the hand, which is warm and dry and just a little calloused, and they shake briefly. “I’m Severus Snape, potions master. I teach Potions at Hogwarts. You may call me Severus while we’re here.”

“I’m Harry,” says Harry. Professor Snape, Severus, grins at him.

“Do you know how your parents died, Harry?”

Harry nods, wasn’t expecting this topic at all, then remembers he needs to talk. “Yes, Hagrid told me. Voldemort killed them.”

 Severus twitches and Harry starts to apologize for using the forbidden name, but Severus stops him by holding up his hand. “I’ll explain later why I won’t call him that, but you have every right to. If there’s something you want to know, you may ask anything. I can’t tell you I will know or be able to tell you, but please do ask.” 

Harry nods, then squeaks out an “alright”. Severus continues: “The Dark Lord disappeared the night he killed your parents, but he had a group of people that agreed with him, his followers.”

“Do you think he’ll be back?” Harry finds himself asking.

“Yes, I think he’s hiding while he regains his strength, I think he will come back and he will try to hurt you,” Severus nods, looking impossibly sad. “You’re safe here,” Severus promises, “but you cannot stay at Hogwarts forever.” Despite himself, Harry feels like he wants to comfort the man. He wants information more though, so he asks: “Are his followers hiding with him?” 

Severus looks at him curiously. Harry gets the strange impression that he asked a good question. “Perhaps some are. Most of his followers pretended they never had anything to do with him after he disappeared. The others went to prison. Those who couldn’t claim not being on his side often said they had been forced to join him.”

Harry hums, he hopes Severus will keep talking, but Severus is quiet for a long time. He remembers his hot chocolate and takes a sip. It’s delicious, still warm but no longer burning, rich and smooth. His eyes widen as he licks his lips clean. Severus notices and laughs softly, it’s a nice sound.

“Then there’s me,” Severus returns to his story, and his face looks sad again. “I was his follower, because I thought he could protect me and make me stronger. I realized quite soon that he would not protect me or make me stronger, that he was hurting people instead. Then I made a mistake, and it put your life in danger, as well as your parents’ lives. I went to professor Dumbledore to ask him for help, and he promised he would if I became a spy. Your parents died because of my mistake.”

Harry has to think about that for a moment. Severus was a follower of Voldemort, but he tried to protect his parents and spied for professor Dumbledore. He wants to know what the mistake was that Severus made, wonders what happened. He decides that it matters more right now if he’s safe.

“Are you happy he’s gone?” He ends up asking.

“Very much,” Severus says, looking at Harry, “but I’m afraid that he will come back. When he does, it would help us defeat him forever if I can be a spy again.”

“So you’re mean to me so that when he comes back, he will think you want to hurt me so you’re on his side?”

“Clever child,” Severus mutters and he nods. Harry decides that means he is safe. Severus didn’t mean for his parents to get killed and he didn’t want to be mean to Harry. “There are children at this school whose parents are followers of the Dark Lord, and they will tell their parents of how we get along if we don’t hide it. If he thinks we’re friends, he might even ask me to take you to him.”

“You want to be friends with me?” Harry asks. He’s only been at Hogwarts for a few days and he already has Hagrid, Ron, and now maybe Severus. Even if Severus has to be his friend in secret, that’s more friends than he’s ever had.

“If you would like that too, then yes.” Harry nods, and Severus smiles brightly at him. He has a nice smile that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. Harry relaxes a little. Severus doesn’t want to hurt him, doesn’t look like he’s going to yell, and wants to be his friend.

“Professor Dumbledore asked me to make sure no one could ever get the impression that I would be able to take you to the Dark Lord, that it is completely obvious that you don’t trust me, that everyone considers us natural enemies.”

Harry gasps, “professor Dumbledore asked you to be mean to me?” Severus nods and Harry thinks on that for a minute. It makes sense, if it will help keep him safe, but he can’t imagine what it would be like if he didn’t know Severus didn’t actually dislike him. He feels very grateful that Severus is taking the time to explain. If Severus didn’t have a choice but to be mean during class, Harry can forgive him for the cramp in his stomach. The hot chocolate is fixing that anyway. 

“Why can’t you say Voldemort?” Harry asks.

“Because he gives all his followers a Mark,” Severus explains, and he stretches out his left arm so Harry can see the grey snake and skull. “It connects us to him, when he wants us to come, he calls us with it. If he wants to hurt us, he can, and when we say his name, it burns us.”

Harry takes a deep breath, then stretches out to carefully trace the snake. “It’s not as bad now that he is very weak,” Severus continues, shuffling closer so Harry can reach better, “when he is stronger the mark is darker, and the pain is worse.”

“I don’t mind touching you,” Harry finds himself thinking out loud, “I don’t normally like being touched or touching people.”

“I’m the same,” Severus says softly, and Harry pulls his hand back. “I mean, I don’t normally like it, but I don’t mind when you do.”

“Oh,” Harry says, touching the snake again. It seems to be looking at him so he tells the snake “ _you’re very pretty but you’re hurting my friend_.”

Severus gasps, and Harry pulls his hand back again, squirming closer to the back of the chair. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no,” Severus says, frozen in place, “you can speak to snakes?”

Harry nods, “I’ve only done it once before, at a zoo.”

“Maybe that should also be a secret, Harry. Only one other person can speak to snakes.”

“Him?” Harry doesn’t like having something in common with Voldemort at all. But Severus nods.

“Harry,” Severus says, his tone very serious, “we can be friends in here, but outside of these rooms, we need to pretend to hate each other. If you think you cannot do both, we can’t be friends.”

“I understand,” Harry says, it wouldn’t be the first time he kept something hidden from people, “I’d like to be your friend.”

“I’m very happy to hear that. Will you be able to keep everything we talked about today a secret?”

Harry thinks for a moment, spreading his hand on the tattoo on Severus’ arm. “What will I tell Ron?” 

“You can tell him I gave you detention and you had to write lines, if you want.”

Harry thinks on that, then nods. That would make sense. “When will we see each other? I’m having tea with Hagrid later today and I live with Ron.”

“My door is always open to you, and maybe when I give you detention because we fight in class, we can talk like this instead.”

Harry smiles, “that sounds nice.” He thinks for a moment. “If it’s a secret, maybe we should have a secret code.” He read a pirate book in class once where they had secret codes. Severus smiles again, slow, like they have a secret together.

“I think that’s a very good suggestion. Maybe we can say that when I call you arrogant, what I really mean is ‘I’m still your friend’.”

Harry smiles wider, he likes this, “maybe when I say you’re ugly what I really mean is I’m still your friend.”

“Pardon?” Severus’ eyes have narrowed a little. Harry tries to sit still but squirms in his seat. He pulls back his hand from Severus’ arm.

“I’ve heard people call you the ugly git or the dungeon bat,” Harry feels his cheeks heat. He knows what it’s like to be called names. “Obviously it’s not true, so it can be our code.”

“Obviously?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, at a loss for words, “like this.” He waves his hand at Severus sitting in front of him, “you look nice without all the black, and not so scary with your hair back.”

Severus leans back onto his hands and looks at Harry strangely.

“Did I say something wrong?” Harry asks, trying to read Severus’ expression. He’d rather not make his third friend angry.

“No,” Severus huffs, then smiles, “you said something kind, I suppose I’m not used to that.”

“Oh,” blushes Harry, “neither am I, I think. Maybe we can be kind for each other.” Severus looks like he might cry for an odd moment, but he nods and really that makes Harry very happy.

“Are you hungry at all?”

Harry thinks, he is but he doesn’t want to seem greedy. “It is lunch time.” He says instead.

Severus tilts his head and calls softly for someone called Daphne. A tiny creature appears, with huge round eyes and big floppy ears. “What can Daphne do?”

“I’ll have some stew and some bread please, if it’s not a bother. Harry, what do you feel like?”

“Anything’s fine,” Harry squeaks and Daphne gives him a look of such scepticism that Harry freezes. “I love the pie we had at the Welcoming Feast,” he finds himself saying, and Daphne nods before disappearing.

“Severus?”

“House elf, they run the kitchen and do the cleaning around the castle. Daphne is a friend, she keeps secrets well. If you’re in need you can call for her, she can appear anywhere in the castle, but don’t abuse it.”

Harry nods. A table filled with food suddenly appears between Severus and him, and he sinks down onto the floor, sitting on his knees to eat. Severus seems preoccupied with eating himself, so Harry doesn’t bother pretending he’s not hungry anymore. They talk about Harry’s first week of classes, his teachers, what was hard, what was easy.

“Harry,” Severus says before Harry leaves, “you mustn’t tell anyone about this. I’m sorry to ask it of you but you really shouldn’t.”

“I won’t,” Harry promises.

“When you’re around professor Dumbledore, try not to even think of me,” he says then, which is a strange thing to say. But Severus asked him to try, so Harry promises he will.

 

Time passes fast at Hogwarts. Harry loves the castle, loves the grounds, loves the corners and corridors and paintings and all the odd nooks. He loves the classes, loves his friends, loves the food.

His first detention with Severus happens the third week. In class Severus had called on Harry for questions that weren’t a part of the homework at all. Hermione seemed to know the answers but then she probably memorized the whole book before even getting to Hogwarts. Harry got angry with Severus and earned himself detention by calling him an ugly bat.

When he comes into the classroom on Saturday morning, Severus smiles happily at him.

“Good morning!” With a nod of his head he directs Harry into his office.

“Hey,” Harry isn’t sure if he’s forgiven, even if it was their code. He walks over carefully. Severus looks him up and down and Harry can feel his shoulders pull up.

“You did well,” Severus says gently. “Do you have a lot of work? I have to brew a potion and I could use an extra set of hands.”

Harry shakes his head. “Just an essay for Herbology for Monday but I have time. I’d like to help.”

The rest of the morning they talk about what Harry should write the essay on while Severus chops and stirs and Harry walks around the office fetching him jars and ingredients. Severus teaches him to go for the freshest ingredients, to get the nicest looking leaves for the best result. It’s really nice and Harry has a hard time pretending it wasn’t when he joins his classmates for lunch.

 

The morning of Halloween, Harry finds a tiny box with pumpkin shaped chocolates on his bed. There’s a note in there but it only says SS. They’re so delicious Harry only lets Ron have a couple. And only after Ron shows he’s a true friend by helping Harry hide from the third person that reminds him it’s exactly ten years since his parents died. As if it hadn’t been in the newspapers that morning. The whole day people cheerfully announce Harry’s parents are dead a decade whenever then can. Harry tries to thank Severus for the chocolate, but Severus pretends they weren’t from him.

The troll enters the dungeons, Harry and Ron go to find Hermione and they all become friends. Severus shouts and stomps but calls all three of them arrogant so Harry knows he’s acting. In his quarters, hands around a mug of hot chocolate, Severus is totally calm.

“Please,” he says, “don’t do that. Don’t fight things because you’re there, going for help is the most useful thing to do in most situations, bravery has nothing to do with luck.”

Harry nods. “I’m sorry I made you angry.”

“Harry,” Severus looks at him, he looks sad. “You’ve never once made me angry. You make me worried.”

“Don’t think anyone’s been worried for me before,” Harry mumbles.

“I know there is no greater truth than this,” Severus makes sure Harry is looking at him before continuing. “Your parents loved you with all that they were. They worried for you, and I don’t doubt they still do, wherever they may be now. Hagrid and Mr. Weasley, they worry for you. Knowing Mr. Weasley’s mother, she probably worries for you too. Professor Dumbledore and professor McGonagall worry for you.”

“That’s a lot of people,” Harry tries to smile at Severus. He knows it doesn’t look happy, but he is very grateful to have so many people care.

 

A week later, Severus gets bitten by the dog on the third-floor corridor but he won’t tell Harry why. It’s _not for eleven-year-olds to know_ , he keeps saying, even after Harry helps him with the cream to heal faster. Severus is irritable for the rest of the day and when Harry asks why, Severus looks at him oddly.

“How’ve I been in a mood?”

“You’re cranky, you’re stomping and growling.”

“Oh,” Severus sighs, sinking down into the chair, “I suppose I’m worried for tomorrow, for your first match, and disappointed I won’t be able to go running while this wound heals.”

“You run?”

Severus nods, “I aim for three times a week.”

“That explains,” Harry sighs, letting himself drop back into the seat. He pulls his books onto his lap. Severus blinks at him, so he explains, “you walk really fast, you always take such big steps.”

It gets him his first smile of the day, “I’m also quite tall, Harry, even for an adult.”

“Everyone is taller than me,” Harry complains, “and also why does every spell have to be in Latin? Stupid Latins.”

“Hardly Latin,” Severus chuckles, “though many of the words we use for spells have roots in Latin. Have you ever heard of mythology?”

Harry shakes his head no.

“The Romans, who spoke Latin, had fascinating stories they told each other about their gods. Greeks did too. Their cultures were very interesting, I’ll see if I can find you a book. Maybe you won’t find them stupid then.”

 

The next day Harry plays his first match, his broom acts up and he searches the crowd for Severus. Severus already seems to be casting a counter curse, so he focuses on staying on. There’s a bit of a hassle, and his broom straightens itself. Harry catches the Snitch and they win the match. Hermione and Ron tell him Hermione saved him by setting fire to Severus’ cloak. That night Harry knocks on the door to Severus’ quarters.

“You don’t have to knock, you know,” Severus tells him, after he’s been let in. “Just walk in.” Severus is wearing weekend clothes. Slim black trousers and a long-sleeved tunic down to his thighs. Thin purple robes that reach the floor when he stands, tied with a belt. Rings and bracelets.

“But your privacy,” Harry frowns.

“I have other rooms for privacy, Harry, and if you just come in there’s less chance of someone spotting you in the corridor.”

“I’ve already told everyone that’ll listen that I suspect you and Quirrell of trying to steal something,” Harry flops down into the arm chair. “They’ll just think I’m trying to spy on you.” 

Severus chuckles and comes back from the kitchen with two steaming mugs. He gives one to Harry and takes his own seat.

“Thank you for today,” Harry tells him finally. “Saw you casting the counter curse.”

“You’re welcome,” Severus smiles, “you did very well.”

“Beat Slytherin,” Harry grins. 

“That you did.”

 

 

After three months of after dinner hot chocolate, yelling at each other in class, and talking or doing homework while Severus brews instead of detention, Harry rushes in right before curfew and closes the door behind him.

“Harry, isn’t it time for bed?” Severus asks from the chair he’s sitting in. He’s holding a very large book in his lap. Probably about Potions, Severus doesn’t seem to have any fun books with stories at all.

“Sorry,” Harry gasps, still panting a little from running all the way down. “I think Hermione is starting to figure out something.”

“What makes you think that?” Severus asks kindly, motioning for Harry to sit and getting up to make them hot chocolate. He’s told Harry that the hot chocolate will help him gain weight and grow better, but Harry would drink it even if it made him sick. Hot chocolate is the most delicious thing on the planet.

“She’s been asking about why you’re so mean to me when I’m so good at Potions, but now she asked why I don’t seem to mind detention with you especially since you tried to kill me during Quidditch.”

“Harry, if this is too hard for you, we can stop seeing each other like this.”

“No,” Harry cries, “you’re my friend! Besides, I don’t think anyone but Ron or Hermione knows me well enough to become suspicious.”

Severus nods, then steps into the kitchen. When he comes back out, he sits down on the carpet in front of Harry. He hasn’t done that since the first time they talked, so Harry sits up straight as he takes the hot chocolate.

“Harry,” he starts, “I trust your judgement. If you feel that we can trust Hermione and Ron and they wouldn’t tell anyone else, then I think we can.”

Harry thinks for a moment. Who would Hermione tell? She doesn’t have any other friends. Ron might tell his brothers or mother though.

“Just Hermione,” he decides. “Maybe we can tell Ron later, but I don’t think he suspects anything yet and he might tell his family.”

“That sounds good,” Severus nods. “Before we tell her though, you should know that the Dark Lord thought people like Hermione didn’t belong at Hogwarts.”

“Why? Because she’s black? Is that why he didn’t like my parents? Were they brown like me?” Harry says, even if he knows it irritates Severus when he asks too many questions in a row. It does now too, Severus looks cross.

“Not because she’s black, he didn’t like your parents for other reasons, your father was brown like you,” he answers. “Please remind me in a moment to ask you why you’ve never seen pictures of your parents. I will tell you the other thing first.”

Harry nods, drinking his hot chocolate to stop himself from asking more questions.

“It’s because Hermione’s parents are Muggles. Your mum’s parents were Muggles too. The Dark Lord thinks only wizards should be in charge, that Muggles are unimportant. That wizards and witches born from Muggles shouldn’t be allowed to come to Hogwarts.”

Harry struggles with that for a moment, Hermione is no less of a witch because her parents are Muggles. She’s been his friend since Halloween but he’s known for a while that she’s brilliant. Clearly, Voldemort was wrong.

“I have no idea what my parents look like, except everyone keeps saying that I look like them. My aunt and uncle told me they died in a car crash.”

“Your parents,” Severus says, looking very earnest, “died to protect you. It was wrong of your aunt and uncle to keep that information from you.”

It seems that Severus notices that talking about these things make him sad, because his tone changes completely when he says: “Does Petunia still look like a horse when she’s angry?”

Harry giggles at that, “she looks like a horse all the time!”

Severus laughs with him, it makes Harry feel warm and safe. “How do you know Petunia?”

“I grew up near your mum,” Severus answers, leaning forward a little, “we were friends before we even came to Hogwarts.”

“Until she died?” Harry asks, unable to help himself.

“Yes,” Severus nods, “although we were not so close at the end.” He seems sad, which makes sense. Harry would hate to stop seeing anyone he’s friends with now. He can tell by the way Severus asked about Petunia that he doesn’t like her and Harry feels less alone. It’s nice to have someone in the castle know something about Little Whinging. He hopes quietly that he’ll never have to go back, that he’ll be allowed to stay here or at least away from Petunia. He wouldn’t mind never seeing her again. Why did Severus and his mum stop being friends?

“When you were following Voldemort?”

“Before that even. We had a big fight when I called her something really nasty and our friendship never really recovered. It didn’t help that your dad and I didn’t get along.”

Harry nods thoughtfully. “But you tried to save them.”

“I did.” Severus looks very sad, so Harry places a hand on his shoulder. He hopes it’ll make him feel better and it seems to work because Severus sighs and smiles at him a little.

They finish their hot chocolate in silence and Severus walks Harry to a portrait with a secret passage to the seventh floor, so he can avoid bumping into Mrs. Norris. Or worse - Filch himself.

“I’ll tell Hermione tonight if she’s still in the common room, and otherwise tomorrow,” Harry promises.

“Alright,” Severus says, and he ruffles Harry’s hair. “Now off to bed with you.” 

Harry laughs, gives Severus a quick hug, and rushes off.


	2. Year 1 - Hypothetical Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll tell Hermione tonight if she’s still in the common room, and otherwise tomorrow,” Harry promises.
> 
> “Alright,” Severus says, and he ruffles Harry’s hair. “Now off to bed with you.”
> 
> Harry laughs, gives Severus a quick hug, and rushes off.

Hermione doesn’t believe him. They’re sitting on the big chair in front of the fire in the common room, she has a truly enormous book in her lap, but she’s listening to him whisper in her ear. When Percy comes to chase them to their dorms, she still thinks Severus is trying to trick Harry, but at least she’s promised not to tell anyone. Not even Ron. 

At night Harry remembers the pumpkin-shaped chocolates and he thinks that Halloween must be hard for Severus too. He tries to imagine Severus younger, friends with a girl with his eyes. 

The next day in class, Harry keeps his head down. He knows Severus will leave him alone if he doesn’t make eye contact or talk, so he just works on his potion. They’re working on the Wiggenweld Potion. Harry helped Severus make some for the infirmary a few weeks ago so Harry isn’t too concerned. It’s nice to brew easy potions, Harry thinks, as he adds the honey water. He feels calm and focused, working steadily so Neville can follow what he’s doing if he needs to. They talked through the Potions homework together, so he should know the steps, but Neville gets nervous easily.

 After he’s stoppered his bottle and dropped it off on professor Snape’s desk, he packs slowly. Everyone is rushing to finish their potions, so no one is paying attention to them. He flashes Severus seven fingers. Severus nods, then looks over to where Hermione is stoppering a flask. Harry shakes his head, and Severus mouths ‘bring her’. Harry nods, then leaves the classroom with the other Gryffindors.

Hermione believes him when she’s sitting on the sofa in Severus’ chambers, her legs dangling, cradling a mug of tea. Severus and Harry sit in their armchairs with mugs of hot chocolate. It takes less than an hour for Severus to tell her what he thinks she needs to know, convince her not to tell anyone else, and send her on her way.

“I noticed you didn’t tell her much,” he says, hanging up his robes, toeing off his boots, pulling his hair into a bun. “Not even about the deal we have regarding your Potions grades.” 

Harry blushes, he doesn’t know why he doesn’t want to share Severus, but he really doesn’t. He settles on shrugging and saying: “I don’t like it when people tell my secrets.” 

Severus nods approvingly. “I appreciate it.” 

“Do you want to tell anyone about me? Besides Daphne I mean,” Harry asks. It would be only fair. Severus shakes his head as he sits back down in his armchair, pulling up his legs and folding them so he’s sitting on them.

“But I appreciate the offer.” They smile at each other.

“Who are your other friends?” Harry asks, which makes Severus’ face do strange things.

“I’m not sure I have other friends, Harry.”

“That can’t be true,” Harry decides, “you play chess with professor Dumbledore sometimes and you talk about professor McGonagall as if you’re friends.”

“I suppose that is true,” Severus agrees. “Professor McGonagall is very funny, you know. I also talk to Madame Pomfrey about healing and potions often.”

“Five friends! That’s even more than me!”

“Yes Harry,” Severus laughs and smiles at him fondly, “but only one secret friend.”

“When will you give us our grades for the potions we made today?”

“Next week,” Severus grins. “I’ll check them before class. Do you know what you’d like to ask for?”

Harry knows, but he hasn’t quite figured out how to phrase it yet. Every time he gets an O for a potion, Severus tells him a secret about Hogwarts. So far he’s learned two shortcuts and the locations of all of the common rooms.

“I’ll tell you the exact phrase later, but I’ll be asking about the kitchen.”

“You’re very confident you’ll be getting that O,” Severus chuckles, but they both know that the potion was good.

“Can you help me with Transfiguration?” Harry asks. Sometimes Severus will explain something to him that he didn’t understand before. He sighs gratefully when Severus agrees.

“So why can’t a Transfigured thing stay Transfigured,” Harry blurts out. “I don’t get that at all.”

“Well,” Severus stares at the ceiling and bites his lower lip. He always does that when he’s thinking. “Did professor McGonagall explain how everything is made up out of really small parts that are essentially the same?”

When Harry nods, he continues, “you can convince things, with magic, to rearrange those parts, but things always want to return to how they were before. If the magic stops or runs out, the thing will return to what it was before.”

Harry nods thoughtfully. That makes sense. “So, if I die all the toothpicks that I’ve turned into needles will become toothpicks again?”

Severus laughs at that, “not exactly. You stop pouring magic into the item when you finish the spell, otherwise you would be tired from maintaining a relationship to these toothpicks throughout your life. You already know magic is more powerful when you’re close, so you’d have to carry them around.”

Harry laughs now too, he can’t imagine how many toothpicks professor McGonagall has turned into needles in her life, she’d have to have mountains of needles following her around.

“How long something stays Transfigured depends on the precision of the spell, if you managed to do every part of the change, and the power you put into the spell.”

Harry nods, “I know about precision, it’s why we start with smaller things and have to understand the things before we can change them. How do I change the power?”

Severus thinks for a moment. “You know how on a normal day, you may forget that you are breathing, but you never forget to breathe? You adjust your breathing when you walk up the stairs or run, without really considering it.”

He waits for Harry to nod before continuing. “When you start doing spells you have to think about them of course, but then they become normal and you forget to think about the power and concentration they take. But you can take a deep breath to allow yourself to shout or scream, even if normally you don’t because it’s excessive. More than is necessary.”

Harry thinks about that for a moment, then fishes his Transfiguration book out of his bag and makes some notes on the page for toothpicks to needles. He thinks for a moment on how Seamus must be taking some very deep breaths and decides to talk to him about it.

“Thank you,” Harry tells Severus. “That helps.”

“Many people shout when they want to perform a spell with more power, but saying the incantation is never really necessary. You’ll learn how to do magic without speaking when you’re a little older. Perhaps you can practice it with some innocent spells, to try and find out where the power comes from, what it feels like to put more or less force into it.”

“I will,” Harry promises, “I’ll get Hermione in on it too. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Severus nods, “you did very well in class today. Mr. Longbottom’s Potion looks good too, I hope he thanked you for your help.” 

Harry blushes, he’s never had the opportunity to do well in school before and he’s enjoying it very much. Talking to Hermione and Severus about things helps him understand, and sometimes Severus gives him books that explain more so he can figure out even more things.

“I have something to show you,” Severus tells him then, standing up and walking over to the door that Harry knows hides his personal office. “Come along.”

Harry gets up and follows nervously. He knows Severus has other rooms than the sitting room and kitchen, but he’s never been. Severus pushes the door open and lets Harry walk in first. Like the other rooms in Severus’ quarters, the window behind the desk overlooks the lake. The dungeons of Hogwarts have been carved out of the rock that stands over the lake, and Severus’ quarters are the last level that’s above the water. Harry has heard rumours that the Slytherin dorms and common room are lower down and their windows are underwater. He quietly hopes he’ll get to see that someday.

“I was going to wait with this, but then I told you yesterday that I knew your mum and I couldn’t think of a good reason not to show you now,” Severus starts, unpacking a bag filled with books. “I went to my other home last weekend, and I picked this up,” he says, handing Harry a large black book with golden letters.

“A photo album,” Harry whispers, tracing the letters. “May I see?” He asks eagerly. Severus nods, looking down at him fondly. Harry opens the book and sees a handful of moving pictures of angry looking people with black hair and Severus’ nose. There are two still pictures of sad looking people that share Severus’ tall built, his dark hair, and maybe his skin colour. It’s hard to tell from the faded black-and-white.

“Is this your family?” Harry asks.

“They are, and if you flip through about halfway,” Severus says, helping Harry find the page, “you’ll find your family.” Severus taps a moving picture of a family in Muggle clothes. A man with red hair like Ron’s and a woman with waist-length dark blond hair hug each other happily. In front of them stand a blond girl that looks to be chewing angrily, a girl with red hair that is grinning and jumping, and a boy with black hair that awkwardly crosses and uncrosses his arms.

“Is that...” Harry asks, trailing his finger over the angry girl.

“That’s Petunia,” Severus confirms. “With your mum, and your grandparents, and me.”

Harry stares at his mum’s face. He can see that Petunia and she are family, and he also understands why people say he has his mother’s eyes.

“Your mum got a magical camera for Christmas that year,” Severus explains. He flips through the pages, there are loads of pictures of Lily and Severus together. 

“Thank you,” Harry whispers, “for showing me this.”

Severus nods, he looks sad. “I know she probably has stacks of photo albums somewhere, she must have taken thousands of pictures with that camera. I suggest you ask Hagrid for pictures of your parents.”

“Were they friends?” Harry asks, Hagrid never mentioned it if they were.

“No,” Severus says, “I don’t think they knew each other well, but Hagrid would know who else might have pictures of them, or he could ask professor Dumbledore. Hagrid is your friend, so he would want to help.”

 

For Christmas, Harry gives his friends books through the order form Severus helped him get. He’s never been so grateful for Hedwig, there’s no way he could have managed without her, school owls just aren’t as smart. Hermione gets a book on Wizarding traditions, Ron gets one on broom making and maintenance, Hagrid gets a book on baking cookies and cakes, and Severus gets a book on snakes and their use in Potions.

He’d hoped to get presents in return but didn’t expect to have a pile. The invisibility cloak has him mystified, but the book he got from Severus is his favourite. ‘Magical theory and spell creation for beginners’ sounds fascinating and he also got a book on Greek Mythology, as promised. The best part are the notes in the margins of the magical theory book. Severus has left tips and references and little comments all over.

“Severus,” he tells Severus strictly, “you’re not to spend too much money on me and I love the present that you made best. My friendship has nothing to do with presents.”

“Alright,” Severus says, trying to suppress a smile with some difficulty.

“I really mean it.”

“I know you do,” Severus promises, “but it was no trouble and to give things to your friends is not just a kindness to them, it’s a joy to yourself.”

Harry frowns but he knows it’s true. Much as he loved all the presents he got for Christmas, it was nicest when he saw his friends enjoying the books he’d picked them. So he nods.

That night, Harry discovers the mirror of Erised. He goes back the next two nights, showing Ron and staring at his family. When Dumbledore tells him not to go looking for the mirror he cries himself to sleep on Severus’ sofa. He dreams of being carried in strong arms, the smell of cinnamon and cardamom, and gentle fingers in his hair. He wakes up in his own bed, a picture of Lily running through a field on his nightstand. Over his duvet is a woollen throw that smells of wood fire and lavender. He never even showed the mirror to Severus, never even got to find out what Severus would see.

 

Winter holidays are nice because Harry gets to spend days with Severus as well as evenings. When Severus hasn’t been around for two days, Harry sneaks down one evening feeling a little strange, hoping Severus is alright. They normally see each other more often than this. The door swings open when he touches it and Severus is standing by the book case.

“You cut your _hair_ ,” Harry can’t hide his displeasure. “Why?”

Severus stares at him oddly. His face is doing strange things. “I went to check on the house and went for a haircut in town, even I need haircuts sometimes.”

Harry huffs, “sure but it was so much nicer when it was long!”

Severus tilts his head, like he’s expecting something else to come. He settles on turning to the kitchen to make both of them some hot chocolate.

“I mean it,” Harry follows him into the kitchen to frown at him more. “You should grow it even longer.”

“It gets in the way.” Severus swallows.

“Wear it up,” Harry suggests, shrugging. He takes the mugs when Severus finishes pouring hot chocolate into them so he’ll have his hands free for biscuits.

When they’re both sitting in their chairs, plate of biscuits floating between them, Harry’s legs dangling, Severus still has an odd look on his face. “Did I say something wrong?” Harry asks finally.

Severus shakes his head, “although most people start with ‘hello’ when they haven’t seen each other in a few days.”

Harry feels his face heat. “I’m really sorry. I’ve missed you.”

Severus nods, focusing his attention back to his hot chocolate. Harry looks at him over his mug. Severus’ hair barely touches his shoulders again, like at the beginning of the year. He really did prefer how it looked before he had it cut but it hadn’t been his intention to make Severus feel weird. He wonders what’s wrong.

 

For Severus’ birthday Harry gives Severus a notebook that he wrote all the stories in that he could remember. Fairy tales, ghost stories, movies, even the one about the pirate that he got the idea for their code from. It took all of the holidays to make it, but Severus knows almost no stories at all and this way he can catch up to Harry. Where Harry couldn’t remember a name or a title, he made one up, which he tells Severus as he is unwrapping the present. Severus glares at the notebook, then at Harry, then back to the notebook. He looks like he might cry. 

“Thank you,” he croaks, sounding like he might cry. Harry mumbles ‘you’re welcome’ and ‘happy birthday’. Then he flees from the room. He doesn’t care much for curfew since he has the cloak, but tonight it’s a convenient excuse.

 

Hermione asks sometimes if he was with Severus when he comes back to the common room right before curfew. He doesn’t lie to her, but when she asks what they talked about, he only tells her about the things related to school. Hermione and he try to help the other students with their homework, their spells, their brewing, but only a few of them care enough to listen.

“Have you ever read this?” He asks Hermione one night, showing her the first page of ‘Metamorphoses: Pygmalion’.

“Not this version, but I know the story. Why?”

“Why did Pygmalion put the statue in his bed?” Harry crinkles his nose. A cold statue next to you while you’re trying to sleep doesn’t sound nice at all. Hermione tells him, and Harry blushes deep. She won’t stop talking until he’s heard the full explanation and by the end of what was surely the most uncomfortable five hundred hours of his life, Harry vows to never ask Hermione anything ever again. He breaks the promise to himself that same night when there’s Astronomy homework to be done. When he complains to Severus about how _awkward_ that was, Severus tries very hard not to laugh. Harry doesn’t mind much.

 

“What do you know about dragons?” Harry asks carefully, sitting cross-legged in his armchair.

“Enough to not come close to one,” Severus looks extremely curious.

“What’d you do if you knew someone who had a dragon?”

“Am I to assume,” Severus stares Harry down and Harry squirms a little, “that in this purely hypothetical situation -”

“What’s hypothetical?” Harry whispers.

“We’re assuming it’s true for this conversation but we will not comment on whether it really is.”

“Oh,” Harry is _very_ relieved, that’s exactly what he wants. “That, yes.”

“Am I to assume that in this purely hypothetical situation,” Severus starts again, “this dragon lives in a flammable house with someone who thinks it’s harmless?”

Harry nods, biting his lip.

“I would try to think of someone that knows a lot about dragons, maybe works with them, and ask them for help. They might be able to pick this dragon up.”

“If it existed,” Harry grins.

“Which it probably doesn’t,” Severus agrees.

 

Harry walks into Severus’ quarters the morning after Ron was bitten. He’d gone to visit Ron in the Hospital Wing.

“You must tell me what happened to Mr. Weasley if you want me to help him,” Severus tells him without even turning around.

Harry frowns. They promised they wouldn’t tell anyone, but then Severus hadn’t told anyone about the dragon before. Harry isn’t dumb enough to think Severus doesn’t know everything there is to know about Norbert.

“Harry,” Severus uses his class voice, and Harry gets his first good look at him. He’s on the sofa marking papers, surrounded by plates and cups and notes. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days.

“A dragon. The dragon. Norwegian Ridgeback.”

Severus nods, and stands up, disturbing his papers. He smooths down his robes, and strides into the office where a bubbling cauldron is smoking up the room.

“Fetch me that yellow bottle,” he points while stirring, when he notices Harry has followed him. He adds a few drops, and the concoction turns a deep purple. Severus nods and ladles it into a couple of vials. He labels the vials ‘Experimental treatment Mr. Weasley #1’. 

“You won’t tell?”

Severus shakes his head ‘no’. His hair looks awful. “Please just tell me in the future, it saves all of us time.”

Harry steps closer and carefully touches Severus’ arm. “I’m really sorry. Will you please shower and sleep now?”

Whirling around, Severus stares down at him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re smelly and...” Harry feels himself blush as Severus seems to stare a hole right through him. “Is this like the hair thing? After Christmas? I don’t mean to hurt you.”

Severus shakes his head. Turns off the fire, sets the cauldron to cool off, and leaves the office. “Go to class, Harry,” he says over his shoulder.

Harry had Astronomy the night before, so there aren’t morning classes to attend. He decides to do some homework in the common room instead. By lunchtime Severus’ hair is clean and his robes have been changed. He still looks tired, but when Harry makes eye contact across the Great Hall, Severus smiles a little at him.

 

The day after Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Draco serve detention in the Forbidden Forest, Harry tells Severus everything that happened. Severus apologizes again for giving him the detention in the first place and seems very upset at the idea that his punishment could have gotten them hurt.

“It’s alright really,” Harry says, “I promise. I understand you’d have had to be mean during detention if we’d been with you, it makes sense to send us with Hagrid instead.” 

“I had no idea he’d split you into groups!” Severus has been pacing up and down the sitting room and it’s making Harry dizzy. 

“Severus,” he pleads, trying to think of something that might distract him, “please help me learn the differences between all these plants, I’m fine when it’s flowers, but leaves are so boring.”

That works. Severus stops pacing and kneels down next to Harry. “In your old school, did you ever do arts?”

Harry nods at him. “I liked drawing, but I didn’t like building things much. Why?”

“Why don’t you draw all the leaves you have to know, then I’ll find you some watercolour so you can match the colours too. Do you think that might help?”

“I’m not sure,” Harry admits, “but it sounds fun.”

“Good,” Severus smiles at him, “I like drawing too, I like making drawings of potions ingredients that I find when I make notes about what they do.”

  

Severus and Harry have their first fight the day after Harry wakes up at the hospital wing. He’s in Severus’ sitting room and being shouted at for _not asking for help_ , for _being reckless_ , for _not waiting for Dumbledore_. Harry stands on the sofa to be taller and shouts back about _being alone_ and _where were you_ and _what if Voldemort had taken you_? It feels good to shout, to tell Severus what happened, to be angry instead of really, really scared. 

When Severus asks how an eleven-year-old could’ve been so _arrogant_ as to think that he could defend the school, they look at each other and start laughing. Still friends indeed. Severus sinks to his knees on the carpet until his laughing doesn’t sound like laughing anymore and Harry kneels in front of him and gets wrapped up in long arms. Strong fingers cradle his head. He tells Severus about protecting Hogwarts, defending home. He sobs into Severus’ robes about _being alone_ and _couldn’t find you_ and _what if Voldemort had taken you_? Severus whispers back about _always with you_ and _looking for you_ and _what if Voldemort had hurt you_?

 

That summer, Severus manages to get a volunteering position at the local library. They tell him they’re always looking for an extra pair of hands while children are out of school, he tells them he’s a teacher and he like encouraging students to read more during their holidays. It’s hardly a lie. Harry escapes to the library every chance he gets for books and hot chocolate and as much food as he can manage to eat in a sitting. He doesn’t know how Severus knows he needs the food, how Severus knows that he needs him close, but Severus never asks about the Dursleys. He never tells either.

He works on his summer homework with help from Severus, who brings his own copies of the first-year books to the library and returns home with books called ‘The Perfect Garden’ and ‘The Definitive Guide to Flowering Powerfully’. The garden has never looked better, and Petunia accepts his absences. He gets pretty good at drawing the flowers he plants for Severus when Severus asks about the garden.

“Severus?”

“Harry?” Severus leans over to see what Harry’s working on.

“Not a school question,” Harry says, putting his pen down. It’s one thing to write essays on magic in a Muggle library, another thing entirely to use a quill to do so.

“What is it?” Severus closes the book he’s reading and sets it aside, focuses all his attention on Harry. It makes Harry squirm and blush.

“What’s a poof?”

Severus chokes, then coughs to clear his throat. “Where did you hear that?”

“Dudley was watching TV and there was a movie about someone who was sick, and then Petunia turned it off saying ‘serves the poof right’. I think. Maybe I didn’t hear right?”

“No, I think you heard right. Harry, do you know that some people think only men and women should marry each other?” 

Harry stares at him, “but what about people like Percy and Oliver?”

“Mr. Wood and Mr. Weasley? Percy and Oliver can get bonded or married in the Wizarding world, but not married in the Muggle world. People who think Percy and Oliver shouldn’t be together at all might call them names.”

Harry pulls a face. Just when he thought he disliked Petunia quite enough. Percy and Oliver are wonderful together, they talked about boring things happily for hours and had mostly stopped bothering other people. Harry would like them more if they stopped kissing quite as much in the common room, but Ron said it’s normal to like kissing better when you get older.

 

With Severus in town, Little Whinging sings with rumours about a strange man working at the library. About his black nails, his jewellery, his dress-like gowns, his long hair. Petunia bans Dudley from going to the library, which Harry finds hilarious, and tells Harry he’s not to associate with any queer types. Harry thinks Severus looks good in flowing robes and leggings and tunics, not the scary teacher but the friend. Besides, it’s not like the other volunteers wear the kind of clothes the Dursleys would approve off. Severus isn’t the only one that mostly wears black and a lady called Maggie wears black lipstick and nail polish all the time. When it rains, Severus wears a deep green robe that he closes with a silver pin, it’s Harry’s favourite thing in the world. Harry doesn’t tell Petunia, but then he never tells her anything.


	3. Year 2 - Many Snakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Severus in town, Little Whinging sings with rumours about a strange man working at the library. About his black nails, his jewellery, his dress-like gowns, his long hair. Petunia bans Dudley from going to the library, which Harry finds hilarious, and tells Harry he’s not to associate with any queer types.
> 
> Or:  
> Harry's second year at Hogwarts. The Chamber is open, Lockheart is awful, and there are loads of snakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if I skip over canon events too much! I'm assuming everyone is familiar with what happens in CoS but if I should be fleshing it out more, let me know. (Or if you find mistakes, inconsistencies, etc.)

Harry gets rescued from the Dursleys the day after his birthday, and finally finds out that his friends tried to contact him but couldn’t. He tells them he had a horrible time and asks Hedwig to send a letter to Severus where he explains he’s safe. Severus writes him back saying he should help young Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger with their summer homework. Hermione doesn’t like making drawings of plants and prefers lists, but Mr. Weasley teaches Harry a spell that makes drawings move. He can’t wait to get back to school so he can try it himself. 

 

They have their second fight in Severus’ chambers after the starting feast. Harry is itching and shivering with nerves over the car, the house elf, the disappointment on Severus’ face. _Where were you_ and _I was so worried_ and _don’t you know how dangerous that was_ , shouts Severus. Harry finally tells him about the Dursleys and the cupboard and Dobby and _don’t make me go back there please_.

Severus hugs him so tight it hurts, but Harry is grateful for it. When he lets go, Severus leaves him through a door along the corridor in his quarters. Harry follows him slowly. It’s a greenhouse. Smaller than the ones outside and built into the rock so it’s only glass on one side, but it’s warm and humid and bright. Harry recognizes some of the plants as potions ingredients that need to be used fresh, then notices the wall of terrariums, filled with snakes.

“Happy birthday,” Severus says, his cheeks still red from yelling. Or maybe not from yelling. “I know you like talking to snakes, and I found the book you got me very helpful. These snakes I will use for potions ingredients that they can give without being harmed, like their venom or shed skin.”

“ _Hello,_ ” Harry hisses, grinning when he’s answering by a choir of _a speaker!_ , _hello!_ , _strange snake!_

“ _Hello,_ ” Severus repeats. The snakes all seem shocked, and Harry understands why when he realizes Severus just spoke Parseltongue. “I thought you said Parseltongue couldn’t be learned,” Harry says.

“I think,” Severus grins, “that Parseltongue is tonal.”

Harry has no idea what that means, but thankfully Severus continues. “Tonal languages, like Chinese, are harder to learn because how you say the word affects its meaning. That makes it very hard to learn, instead of impossible.”

“Do you speak Chinese?” Harry asks him, he had no idea. Severus nods. “My father escaped China as a teenager during the famine in the 50s on a boat as a stowaway. I’m not fluent at reading and writing but I can speak it well enough.”

“You could’ve spoken Parseltongue with me then,” Harry teases. “No need to go through the trouble of getting loads of snakes.”

Severus takes just a second too long to respond, giving Harry that odd look that Harry has learned means he’s wondering if he’s being made fun of. “I’d like to learn, if you’d be willing to help me.”

Harry nods happily. “Were you going to tell me about this on my birthday if I’d been able to come see you?”

“Yes. I also have something else that I was going to give you on the day,” Severus fishes around in the pocket of his teaching robes for something, then hands Harry a small box. Harry stares at him before he can even start on the wrapping paper.

“The snakes were more than enough, Severus.”

Severus smiles at Harry, sweet and gentle, “not used to kindness, are we?”

Harry shakes his head, then starts picking at the ribbon. Inside the paper is a deep green box without markings on it. When Harry opens the box, his breath catches. It’s a silver ring, of a snake biting its own tail. He puts it on his ring finger, where it immediately shrinks to fit, with a tingling feeling that seems to come from his lower back.

“What’s it mean?” Harry whispers.

“Many things,” Severus tells him, his warm voice pouring over Harry. “To my mother’s family, it signified the interconnectedness of everything. Where your father’s family is from, it is seen as a representation of primal energy, what drives forth the cosmos.”

Harry touches the ring, spinning it around his finger. “Do you have any books about it? 

Severus shrugs, “sort of, I have a book on symbolism that you can borrow if you want.”

Harry nods eagerly, which makes Severus grin.

“In that box there is a chain for it, so you can wear it under your clothes,” Severus points out.

“Will I still be able to feel it?” Harry asks, the tingle in his spine is pleasant and warm, like drinking hot chocolate or lighting a fire with magic.

“That depends on what you mean by feeling it,” Severus tells him, “why don’t you try?”

Harry puts the ring on the thin silver chain, then closes the clasp and pulls it over his head. The tingling feeling returns as the weight of the ring settles on his chest. He hugs Severus tight, “thank you so much.”

Severus slowly strokes his hair, “you’re very welcome Harry. It belonged to my mother before me. I can tell you more about that later, but for now know that every time it is given to someone, the giver adds a protective spell to it. Most magic will harm you less, though I don’t suggest you try it.”

Harry laughs against Severus’ robes, and nods his head. “Thank you.”

 

On an otherwise unremarkable Wednesday Harry is suddenly very tired of having to pretend to hate Severus. He stalks down the stairs using passages he’s never seen other students use. Opening the door carefully so no one that looked into the hallway would even notice it move, he slips inside, feeling calmer immediately when he passes across the threshold. Dressed in the invisibility cloak still he makes his way over to the greenhouse where Severus is working on repotting something. His sleeves are rolled up and his hair is in a bun and he’s sweaty and covered in mud. Harry takes off the cloak and stuffs it into his pocket.

“What’s wrong?” Severus asks without looking up.

“Nothing,” Harry lies, and Severus turns around, gives him a long look, and gets back to the plant he was working on.

Harry sighs, opening a latch and picking up one of the snakes. “ _Do you want to be held for a little while?_ ” He asks her, and she nods. Sitting on a stool by one of the worktables in the greenhouse, Harry plays with the snake, telling her she’s pretty, while she tells him he’s ugly but warm.

“Just a bit much,” Harry finally says to Severus’ back. “The yelling.”

“Did I go too far today?” Severus asks after a pause, sounding scared and uneven.

“No, it wasn’t that bad at all.”

Severus goes to rinse off his hands and sits himself down opposite Harry on a table. “Will you tell me?”

“Wish we could be friends out there,” Harry waves his hand in the direction of the door, the castle above them.

“Harry, we could, if you can’t -”

“ _Never_. Say that again.” Harry looks at Severus, feeling anger and irritation boil over in his chest, worming its way through his veins. “You’re _mine._ ”

Severus laughs uneasily. “As much as you are mine,” he says finally.

“If you don’t want to be,” Harry starts, he didn’t mean to make Severus think he was property, “friends, or – if. That’d be ok of course. But I do, want to be. It’s worth the yelling but that doesn’t mean I have to like the yelling.”

Severus looks at him fondly, it seems Harry’s explanation worked. “How can we make it easier?”

 _More hot chocolate_ , Harry thinks, looking at the floor, _more hugs_. _More reading in front of the fire stretched out on the carpet._ “More secret code?” He suggests.

 

Halloween brings another box of chocolates, pumpkin shaped. No note this time, but it’s hardly necessary now. Severus teaches him some spells for checking food for potions when Harry pretends to be worried about the mysterious origins of the chocolates. At the Feast that night, Harry makes a show of teaching all the Gryffindors the spells, checking everything at the table. He looks at Severus halfway through Dumbledore’s speech and Severus’ mouth is just a little curled. His eyes are bright.

 

When Harry wakes up in the hospital wing after spending a night re-growing his bones, it’s still dark outside. He notices a soft snoring sound coming from the chair next to the bed and uses his good arm to prod at it. There’s a bit of noise, then Severus appears.

“Disillusionment charm?” Harry asks mildly.

“Yes,” Severus scowls, “I must have dropped the notice-me-not in my sleep, it’s much harder to hold on to.”

“I’m fine Severus, go to bed.”

Severus nods. “I was worried. I wasn’t sure who could have done that to those Bludgers, but then I overheard your conversation with the house elf.”

Harry grins, “spying on me?”

Severus blushes and looks away, so Harry leans over to grab his hand. “Teasing,” he whispers.

“Before Dobby came, did you hear someone say ‘kill’?”

Severus seems grateful for the change in topic, grabs onto Harry’s good hand tighter. “It was Parseltongue, I heard it too.”

“Must’ve been a snake, it sounded just like your snakes do when they see mice.”

“Our snakes,” Severus corrects, making little movements with his thumb on the back of Harry’s hand. “I’m glad you were wearing the ourobouros.”

“Yeah me too,” Harry laughs, squeezing Severus’ hand so he won’t think of letting go, “shame it doesn’t protect against botched healing spells.”

 

When the news of Colin Creevey being petrified too hits, it doesn’t take Severus long to work out that a Basilisk has somehow found its way into the school. He tells Harry not to go roaming around and to use a mirror for corners, but Dumbledore doesn’t believe him and nothing changes. Harry is starting to dislike Dumbledore a little. Why can’t he be as nice to Severus as he is to Harry?

 

Harry begs Severus to let him see the Slytherin common room, but Severus says no.

“What if one of them is the heir?”

“You think,” Severus voice is low, “that one of _my_ Slytherins would do something like unleashing a Basilisk? On purpose?”

“I know it’s not me,” Harry whispers, “and I want to know who it is because I am scared.”

“This is not the answer,” Severus tells him, friendlier now. “We’re better off focusing on figuring out how the Basilisk is traveling through the school unseen. If you ever become a teacher at Hogwarts I’ll happily show you what the dorms look like. I’ll even show you the secret passages and the bathrooms.”

 

Severus suggests Serpensortia to Malfoy but Harry knows better than letting anyone know he is a Parselmouth. He pretends to be terrified and backs away like everyone else until the snake gets banished again. Then he disarms Malfoy, because Malfoy’s a prat and why not?

 

Hermione helps with figuring out how the Basilisk moves through the school and because no one is brewing Polyjuice Potion they realize soon enough after Justin and Nick are attacked that it must be pipes. Dumbledore still won’t listen to Severus.

 

Harry tells Ron and Hermione that he speaks Parseltongue, Ron is a bit of a prat about it at first, but he comes around soon enough. Severus asks questions about Parseltongue so much that Harry gets a little tired of it.

“What’s the difference between rat and cold?”

“The tone, at the end rat goes up, and cold goes down.”

“ _Rat._ ” Severus tries. “ _Berry_?”

Harry sighs, “if you’re unsure and phrasing it as a question that changes the tone. _Cold_.”

“What did I just say?”

“Can we talk about something else?”

Severus frowns, “can’t you just tell me what I said instead of _cold_?”

Harry rolls his eyes and something happens to Severus’ face. He was frowning before, but now all expression seems to have melted off. Instead there’s a carefully neutral look. It makes Harry’s stomach clench with nerves. What just happened?

“Berry.” Harry keeps his voice soft. He’s not sure if he should be apologizing for something. “You said berry.”

“Never mind. I shan’t bother you any longer,” Severus tone is neutral too. Why does that bother Harry so?

Harry leans over in his chair, closer to Severus. Studies his face. “What just happened?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Severus claims, but Harry knows he’s hiding something. Severus’ face is normally so expressive, now even his eyes seem dull. All black.

“I know I’m not very good at being a friend yet,” Harry frowns, “but I really don’t know what just happened.”

The mask leaves, Severus face cracks open, sorrow and worry. “You’re a wonderful friend. I promise. I merely worried you would tease me, about how much I like to learn Parseltongue. I really don’t wish to irritate you with my questions.”

Harry slumps back into his seat, “don’t worry about that. You should have seen me when I first discovered dinosaurs, I refused to talk about, read about, or draw anything else for weeks.”

Severus stands up and leaves to the kitchen. His back is straight but he shoots Harry a smile over his shoulder on his way out of the room. When he comes back with mugs of hot chocolate he asks: “What’s your favourite dinosaur then?”

 

“If he would only listen to me!” Severus rages for the hundredth time.

“I already know he should Severus, just talk to the heads of house instead like you said you would. Can we talk about something else?” Harry sighs and pulls his legs onto the sofa.

“Just because you’re too young to realize the potential – ”

“Stop.” Harry holds up his hand, he doesn’t normally interrupt Severus but he’s really tired of this conversation.

“People could die!” Severus shouts from across the room, hair wild, eyes angry.

“I’m well aware! You’re being angry at the wrong - ”

“But you’re not doing anything!”

“I’ve told anyone that would stand still for long enough that I think it’s a Basilisk and they’re all right back to talking to me behind my back,” Harry stands up too, he’s not the person they should be shouting at. Severus throws his head back for a loud “HA!” which pisses Harry off _so much_. He takes a step closer. Severus starts to say something but Harry wants to go first.

“You know I don’t care about being _popular_!” It’s not about that at all, why is this something that he needs to say. “Stop being such a - ”

“Such a what?” Severus taunts, eyes narrowed like he knows what’s coming. Harry deflates all the way, sinks back into the sofa. One look at him and Severus rushes across the room, kneels down at his feet on the carpet. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Harry puts a hand on Severus head, pets his hair away from his face. “I’m upset too, but not enough to call you names.”

“Shouldn’t have riled you up,” Severus tilts his head up to look at Harry, deep frown across his brown. Harry uses his thumb to smooth it away while Severus takes a deep breath.

“The other heads of house might believe you, which would help. We’ll order more chickens and a bunch of roosters from farms nearby, set them free on the grounds and in the castle. They might all get slaughtered, but that would get attention too and maybe they’ll kill the Basilisk first.”

Severus nods, “not much else we can do.”

“No,” Harry agrees, “but if we could please remember were on the same side here that’d be a relief.”

Severus wrinkles his face again. “I’m supposed to be the adult.”

Harry smiles at him, leans closer, “I was going to call you a git.”

“Very mature of you,” Severus agrees. “I prefer it over fleabag or wanker.”

Harry pretends to be appalled, “are you teaching me swearwords?”

Severus’ cheeks flash pink before he realizes Harry is joking, and they laugh together.

 

For Christmas, Severus gives Harry a heavy book titled ‘The Iliad & The Odyssey’, which Hermione says are stories, so Harry’s excited. He bought Severus a bracelet that he found in Diagon Alley when he was there over summer. Harry knows Severus can’t have jewellery on him when brewing, but he hopes that when it’s holidays Severus might wear it.

Daphne appears in the boys’ dorm when the others have left for breakfast. Harry stops trying to put on his socks while standing to look at her.

“What be this?” She says suspiciously, holding up the vial Harry has given her.

“A hangover potion for elves, a Christmas present, I found the instructions for it in the library and I know I did well, it’s the right colour and everything, I was hoping you could use it if you need it, for yourself or when you’ve a patient,” Harry has written all of this in the card he’d given her with the potion. “Severus said you are a Healer?” He’s not sure at all anymore.

“A Christmas present.”

“Yes?” He’s not sure what’s happening. Severus had helped him brew the potion and given him odd looks the whole way through.

Daphne stomps her feet. He’s not sure if she’s angry or frustrated but when she looks at him her eyes are wet.

“Is it – Did I offend you? Is it not good? Do you not celebrate Christmas? I don’t really either but - ”

She shakes her head, looking angry and unsettled. “It’s perfect, you is too kind Master Harry. Too kind by far.”

 

“Harry,” Severus says when Harry sits down for tea later that day, “this really is too much.”

He’s holding up his arm, where the bracelet fits him perfectly. Harry liked the pattern on the silver clasp, and the reflection of light in the black stones. The man from the store had called them jet, but mostly they reminded Harry of Severus’ eyes. There is never enough light in the dungeons for Severus’ eyes to appear as anything but black, even if Harry knows from the days they spend in the greenhouse that they’re really just a very dark brown.

“Not you too,” Harry sighs. “You’re wearing it, so you want it. Thank you for the book.”

Severus glares at him angrily, then settles down. He’s wearing clothes like the ones he wore in summer, not his teaching robes, waistcoat, trousers and white shirt. Harry thinks he looks better like this, somehow more himself in leggings and tunics and layers of flowing cloth. Younger. Fewer hard angles.

Harry tells him about the potion and Daphne and Severus laughs and laughs and laughs.

“I really don’t understand what I did,” Harry sulks.

“I think you just bought yourself a house-elf’s undying loyalty.”

“That’s not what I did it for,” Harry grumbles.

“It wouldn’t have worked if it had been,” Severus pats his knee gently.

 

In January, Severus gets the book of collected stories of brothers Grimm. It took some time to convince Flourish & Blotts to order it for him, but it was worth it for the look on Severus’ face. It’s a beautiful edition.

 

“Stupid and self-obsessed,” Professor Snape yells at Harry when Harry gets caught trying to explain something to Ron during class. He _knows_ Ron could’ve just done the homework, didn’t even hand in an essay when they’d been assigned to write about the topic of Herbicides and how they work.

“Better than everyone else, aren’t you Potter.”

Ron splutters and tries to defend Harry but Harry steps forward. “I was just telling Ron not to take the cauldron of the heat yet! He would’ve ruined a perfectly acceptable potion!”

“And now you’re ruining yours,” Professor Snape drawls, voice dangerously low. “Don’t think you’ll get marks for Mr. Weasleys meagre success.”

“Evil git,” Ron mutters, while Harry takes his cauldron off the heat. It’s still perfectly fine. He waves his wand and stoppers it. He’s done early because he’d remembered to preheat his cauldron, because he knows how to keep it right against the boil, heat not too low, not too high. He doesn’t even need to look, can hear it go perfectly the way it’s supposed to. After bringing his potion to the front of the class and setting it down on Professor Snape’s desk, he goes back to helping Ron, tries to keep his voice down as he does.

“As convinced of your own skill and just as _useless_ as Lockhart!” Professor Snape’s voice is low, angry. Harry throat is tight, his stomach clenches. He is _nothing_ like Lockhart. For the first time in ages he’s actually bothered by something said during potions class.

“Four times clockwise, then you’re done Ron.” Harry says, under his breath.

“Detention Potter, for ignoring very simple instructions.”

“I was helping him! It could’ve exploded!”

“You are not the person to do that!” Professor Snape yells back, and Harry knows he’s right, but he is mad now and he can’t help himself.

“You weren’t doing it so I did!” He shouts and Professor Snape’s eyes narrow, his mouth twitches unhappily.

“The rest of the week, after dinner,” his voice low, his robes snapping as he turns away.

Ron tries to protest which costs them another 10 points for Gryffindor, so Harry just packs his bag, pushes Ron out the door. Hermione trails behind. Harry manages to shake the anger enough to pretend to be as fine as he usually is after fighting with Severus in class. _But was this even Severus?_

 

After dinner, Harry drags his feet all the way to the dungeon. He steps into the classroom. Normally he’d be happy to have an excuse to be down here every night for a week.

“What was that?” Severus flicks his wand warding the classroom. Harry feels it trickle down his spine, familiar and comforting.

He breathes in deep. Knows immediately that this was a mistake. He won’t be able to let go of his breath and not cry, so he keeps breathing in. When he can’t _not_ , he lets it go. It’s rather unflattering, the noise it makes, but there’s Severus. There’s soft hands, quiet noises, warm and gentle touch. They stand together in the classroom, Severus lifts him onto one of the work tables with a groan, stands between his legs, lets Harry cry into his shoulder. Long fingers hold onto the nape of his neck. Harry wraps his arms around Severus and a long arm settles around his waist.

“Please talk to me,” Severus whispers.

“I hate Lockhart,” Harry sobs. “He hasn’t hurt me or anything, I just really hate him.”

Severus giggles, soft and warm. “What if we make it code for something?”

“It had better be code for ‘you’re the centre of the universe to me’,” Harry tries to joke, but it comes out like a wail. “I _really_ don’t want to be anything like him.”

“Alright,” Severus whispers, to Harry’s surprise. He hums quietly, summons Daphne, asks for tea. A minute later the classroom smells like dark smoky tea, Harry knows she’ll have brought him biscuits too. Harry takes a deep breath. Tea and potions. Cardamom and cinnamon.

“You’re a star Daphne,” he tells the empty room, knowing she sometimes hangs around a little to see if they need anything else.

“I’m sorry,” he tells Severus. His eyes burn, Severus took his glasses at some point and set them to the side so everything is blurry.

“What for?” Severus looks odd. Surprised maybe.

“Getting upset over nothing,” Harry feels his face heat, “crying.”

“Harry,” he looks fond now, “you’re _twelve_ , and even if you weren’t. You’re entirely allowed to cry.”

Severus pets his hair and tells him about his least favourite teachers when he was a student. The one that always made them read in class instead of teaching anything, the one that gave Severus’ perfect potions A’s, the one that laughed when he couldn’t perform a spell. He snorts when Severus tells him of the Defence professor that ran crying after the first time Lily had asked him a critical question. Severus cleans him up and pretends to be upset about Harry being snotty all over his robes. It makes him feel infinitely better.

 

Spring is a mess of fear and Lockhart and Ginny’s diary gives Harry an uneasy feeling which makes him avoid her even if he knows she doesn’t have a lot of friends and it’s not exactly kind. During the Easter break he tries to talk to Severus about it.

“So the Weasley girl makes you uneasy?”

“No, the diary does, the one she has.”

“The one she always carries. How do you know it’s the diary?”

“I had it for a bit and I wrote in it and it talked back.”

Severus looks at him. “Please tell me that you understand magic is not so innocent.”

“Well yeah,” Harry blushes, “but when I had it I really wanted to talk to it.”

“That just means it’s very dangerous. When things make you do or feel things you wouldn’t normally, dark magic is at play.”

Harry nods, “but what do I tell her? I want to help her but she seems really attached to it and she gets so weird when she’s around me that I don’t want to offer to be friends.”

Severus looks at him, his face dark and hard to read. “People that are acting weird are often simply uncomfortable, it’s no reason to ostracize them.”

“I don’t know what ostracize means,” Harry feels awful, he hadn’t meant to hurt Severus. “Please help me with this.”

“The Weasleys like Quidditch don’t they? Perhaps you could convince Mr. Wood that Miss Weasley should train with the rest of you so she can join the team easily next year. Quidditch players are normally popular and it would help you keep an eye on her.”

Harry beams at Severus, “you’re so smart!”

Severus pulls another weird face. “Tell Mr. Wood what you told me, that you’re worried about her not having friends and that you think she might... How do you say ‘in love with’ these days?”

“A crush? I’ll say that. Thank you.”

“I’ll have a discrete chat with Minerva, we’ll see if that changes anything.”

 

They don’t fight when Harry comes to see Severus after being dismissed by Madame Pomfrey and freeing Dobby. Harry knows, even if Severus was hidden the whole time, that Severus didn’t leave his side. That he kept his hand on Harry’s injured arm for most of it. When he arrives in the dungeons, he opens the door, slips in, tosses his cloak on the floor, and throws himself into Severus arms. Severus is sitting in his armchair by a high fire, looking as if he didn’t sleep for days, the whole time Harry was in the hospital wing maybe.

Severus drops the glass he was holding on the stone floor to wrap his arms around Harry. Harry can feel him mumbling into his hair, things like _stupid_ and _reckless_ and _dangerous_. _Worried, worried, worried,_ Harry hears. _Why did I not realize that the diary was connected to the Basilisk_ , they’re both thinking. He leans in closer. They stay like that until Harry’s legs are asleep and all of Severus is asleep and softly snoring. Harry covers Severus with a throw and goes to make hot chocolate.

He’s sitting in his own chair, halfway through his second mug, when Severus stirs.

“Exams are cancelled,” Severus says, his voice rough. “You have three weeks until the start of summer break. I will teach you how to pick locks, and you will research what a Protean Charm is, how it works, and how to perform it in return.”

Harry nods, then remembers how Severus feels about not being answered. “I’d like that.”

“First lesson,” Severus says, and he sticks his wand into one of the pouches hanging from his belt. He throws Harry a heavy cloth bundle. When Harry opens it, there is a set of metal tools, a padlock, and a keyring with several odd-looking keys on it. “If you can open it with one of those keys, the lock was cheap and you save time.”

Harry examines the set, feels the tools. Severus walks over to him, explains how the lock works, demonstrates using two of the tools to open the padlock, then hands it back to Harry.

“You can keep this, practice until you can do it fast.” Then he leaves the sitting room, going into what Harry thinks is probably his bedroom.

Harry practices until it’s time for dinner, knocking on the door Severus is behind to tell him he’s leaving, then walks back upstairs into the gossiping mess that’s Hogwarts. He spends some time over the next few days researching Protean Charms, becomes very angry when he realizes Voldemort has somehow found a way to carve one into Severus’ arm, then brings his notes to the dungeons. Severus produces two pebbles.

“If I wanted to use these pebbles so you can let me know if you’re going to be doing something stupid, how would you suggest I go about it,” Severus asks, after setting down Harry’s notes.

“Well, that depends,” Harry says. “Do you want to make sure no one but us can use them?”

It takes another two days, then they each have a pebble that looks plain, shakes when it’s activated, but only shows the words that were written on its match after you squeeze it three times. The hardest part was making sure the spell would work both ways, and Harry did insist on it.

 

Much like the summer before, Harry spends as much time as he can with Severus at the library. He was prepared this year for having his trunk taken away. Had given everything he’d need for summer homework to Severus for safekeeping before taking the train. Severus makes him change his electives to Arithmancy and Ancient Runes with the promise that he’ll teach Harry how to create spells if he does. He even helps Harry write a very nice letter to professor McGonagall to request the change and a very apologetic letter to Hagrid for ditching his class.

“Tell him you’d rather be his friend than his student,” Severus dictates. “That you’ll come by for tea a lot. Then ask him if he’d be willing to show you some of the creatures he’ll be discussing in class.”

Slytherins write the best letters; Hagrid forgives him immediately and sends long letters about tracking down awful sounding beasts in terrible conditions all summer.

“What is your issue with Divination?” Harry asks Severus after folding the letters and tucking them away to give to Hedwig later. Severus face falls and much as Harry wants to know, he cares about Severus not being sad more.

“That’s alright, you don’t have to tell me at all.” He promises, “I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

Severus shakes his head. “Sybill Trelawny is a useless teacher. She’s never studied Divination she just has the Sight, and not even consistently. It’s like teaching Parseltongue is for you, except if you only spoke Parseltongue when the moon was full at 8:24 in the morning. Some things you know so intuitively that they’re hard to explain.”

“You don’t like her.”

“No. But the real reason I don’t like her is because she made a Prophecy before you were born, and I told the Dark Lord about it, and he came after your family for it.”

“That’s the mistake you told me about.”

Severus nods. He looks small and cold and miserable. Harry isn’t sure what to do, so he reaches across the table to grab Severus’ hand.

“It’s unfair of you to dislike her for something you did,” Harry tells Severus. Severus looks at him, hurt written in the turn of his mouth. Nods. Like he’s deserved it somehow.

“It’s just as unfair to blame yourself for something Voldemort did.”

 

Harry tells Severus when he finds out Marge will be coming that he probably won’t be able to come back all week.

“I’ll find a way to get your present to you,” Severus promises, handing Harry back the essay he’s looked over for him. It’s covered in red ink and Harry grins. “Thanks.”


	4. Year 3 - Dogs and Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry tells Severus when he finds out Marge will be coming that he probably won’t be able to come back all week.
> 
> “I’ll find a way to get your present to you,” Severus promises, handing Harry back the essay he’s looked over for him. It’s covered in red ink and Harry grins. “Thanks.”
> 
> Or:  
> Third year at Hogwarts.

On the morning of Harry's birthday, Petunia wakes him screeching and screaming. When Harry can finally make out that something is apparently wrong with her flowers, he looks out the window. The garden is magnificent. All the flowerbeds, instead of having neat rows of endless geraniums, are teeming with life. Harry recognizes gardenias, freesias, irises, and violets. The colourful leaves of caladium. He itches to check the gardening books he picked up last week so he might identify more of the flowers.

‘Thank you’ he writes on his stone when Petunia leaves. Soon after, the pebble starts shaking. He squeezes its three times, and Severus’ handwriting spells ‘you’re welcome, happy birthday’. 

Harry sneaks into Dudley’s bedroom as soon as he can get away from Marge and her horrid dog. He steals the Polaroid camera Dudley got for his birthday, used twice, then declared boring, and takes a picture of the garden full of flowers in the afternoon light. He thinks for a moment, then takes another one. ‘Wish I could’ve taken a picture of Petunia’s face when she saw’, Harry writes on the back of one, once the colours have appeared. He picks the lock on Hedwig’s cage, then sends her off to Severus with the picture strapped to her leg.

It’s only when he sits down to write a thank you note to Hermione for the book she got him for his birthday that he realizes he doesn’t want to tell her about the flowers. She’s still the only one that knows about Severus and him being friends, so it’s not that she isn’t trustworthy. He decides not to say anything, thinking he didn’t tell her about Severus working at the library anyway, so he would have to explain all that too. 

Petunia ends up accepting the praise from the neighbours and Marge for her wonderful garden, and Harry doesn’t get punished. Marge is still a terrible person, and Harry blows her up. Accidentally. He runs upstairs to set Hedwig free, grabs the wand he liberated from the cupboard under the stairs, packs in three seconds, opens the lock on his cupboard, shoves his books in his trunk, and leaves. Outside, he drags his trunk all the way to the library, then picks up his stone. 

‘I’m at the library’, he writes. His stone immediately shakes with a ‘mortal danger?’, and Harry writes back ‘no’. A huge black dog joins him on the steps and Harry scratches him behind his ear until Severus appears from down the street. The dog whines and growls, but Harry hugs Severus tight. He rattles off everything that happened in the past few days while Severus checks him for injuries. This seems to confuse the dog greatly. Severus tells Harry to prepare for a squeezing feeling and not to let go of his arm, but Harry steps back.

“What about the dog?”

“You managed to adopt a dog in the ten minutes you were alone?” Severus says, not shy about the disbelief in his voice. He eyes the dog suspiciously.

“He doesn’t have a collar or anything,” Harry tells him. He knows it’s ridiculous but he doesn’t want the dog to be alone. He’s too skinny and dirty by far. He might need help.

“Do you want to come with?” Severus asks the dog, and to Harry’s great surprise, the dog nods.

“How does he know English,” Harry whispers, and Severus laughs. The sound startles the dog, which makes Severus laugh harder.

“He must be part crup, magical animals often understand more,” Severus explains when he’s recovered. He shoots some spells at the dog that make him yelp, then sees Harry’s horrified face. “Cleaning spells, making sure he doesn’t have flees. I won’t hurt him.”

Harry relaxes. “Alright. Where will we go?”

“I was thinking to the Leaky Cauldron, you can stay there until the Weasleys come back. Just tell them you used the Knight Bus to get there, if you complain a little about the shaking and Stan Shunpike they’ll believe you.”

Harry nods, that way he’ll be safe and no one will know Severus had anything to do with it. It’s a good plan.

“Are pets allowed at the Leaky Cauldron?”

“They are, until they pee on the carpet, then they are banned for life,” Severus says, glaring at the dog as if he’s challenging him. 

The dog lets out a snort and sidles up to Harry. “It’s decided then,” Severus sighs, and he clutches child, trunk, and dog close to him. Harry thinks Apparating is the worst feeling in the world and tries not to throw up when they arrive in an alley in London. The dog and Severus seem fine and vaguely amused at Harry’s discomfort. Severus makes himself invisible with a tap on his head, then they all walk to the Leaky Cauldron together. Harry thinks for a moment that maybe it’s odd to know where someone is even if they’re invisible, but then Tom is taking his luggage and talking about food, and someone named Fudge is talking about ‘accidents’. Severus is quiet until they’re alone in Harry’s room, when he becomes visible again.

“Harry,” he sits down, rustling robes, elegant lines, “what do you know of Sirius Black?”

“He’s a murderer, he was on the telly.” The dog starts whining and butting his head into Harry’s thigh.

“He was your parents’ friend. Their secret keeper. He betrayed their location, which is how the Dark Lord found them.”

Harry squints at Severus, petting the dogs head to keep him quiet. “Sirius Black the man on the Muggle news?”

“He’s a wizard. He escaped prison, and no one knows how,” Severus looks deeply uncomfortable. “He might come looking for you. Someone must have given him a wand for him to have been able to escape Azkaban.”

“I’ll be careful,” Harry promises. Severus looks like there’s more he wants to say, but he stands up instead.

“You should be safe in Diagon Alley, and with me, but please don’t go looking for him, no matter how much you want revenge.”

Harry smiles at Severus, “it’s like you don’t know me at all, I would never!”

Severus laughs, pushes Harry’s hair back from his face.

“When will I see you again?” Harry asks him.

“If you’d be alright taking dinner in your rooms, I could meet you here at night,” Severus proposes, sticking his wand into a pouch on his belt. A package comes flying out and Severus hands it to Harry. Harry nods eagerly at the idea of having dinner together with Severus every night.

“Happy birthday,” he smiles, the bright and happy kind that Harry likes, and he leaves with a pop.

It’s a book on flowers. It looks ancient and rare, and has detailed drawings of types of flowers, tips on how to grow them, and notes on their relevance in culture. There is a picture of the backyard at Privet Drive 4 placed between two pages, showing the morning light, the waving of the flowers in a breeze and some bees buzzing around. Harry loves it.

The dog sleeps on Harry’s bed every night, then wanders around Diagon Alley with him during the day. Harry noses through second hand stores, looks at jewellery, explores bookstores, and asks everywhere if they have order forms. He tucks the ones he gets into the pocket of his trunk he keeps his letters in and buys so much that he needs to go back to Gringotts twice. Severus laughs when Harry asks him if he could please expand the pockets and drawers of his trunk for him. He tells himself it’s so he won’t have to worry about shopping for presents for a while but knows it’s mostly to do with shiny jewellery and pretty books. The dog never gets used to Severus but at least he doesn’t growl at him anymore and having dinner together every night is nice. They even go to Muggle London together once, where Harry buys a ton of clothes that actually fit him.

After their day out in Muggle London, Severus suggests dinner out.

“Sure,” Harry nods, looking at the dog. “He’ll have to be able to come.”

“I’m sure he’d be able to find his own way back,” Severus laughs, “but we’ll just be going to a pub, shouldn't be a problem.”

They pick a quiet pub where the lady at the door just shrugs when they ask if the dog is allowed in and walk to the back. Another lady brings some water for the dog and takes their order. Severus and Harry each get a pie and the dog scraps of meat on a plate.

“Why is he staring at you?” Harry whispers to Severus while picking his way through the last bits of pie on his plate.

Severus shrugs, then picks up his beer and holds it up, to the side, down again. The dog follows the pint with his eyes the whole time and Harry giggles.

“Harry Potter adopts alcoholic stray,” Severus laughs, “I can see the headlines now.”

“I think he’s adopted me more like,” Harry grins, and the dog thumps his tail on the floor in agreement.

“How are you doing with your summer assignments?” Severus asks, “almost done?”

“Still working on Astronomy and Herbology,” Harry sighs, “shouldn’t have kept the worst for last.”

“You finished Charms and Arithmancy since yesterday, that’s really good.” Severus looks pleased and proud, it makes Harry feel a little better.

 “Yeah, though if you could look over the last Arithmancy essay one more time I’d appreciate it, I shuffled some things around.”

“Of course. Do you need me to make you a study schedule? I doubt you’ll want to be working on school when your friends arrive.”

Harry thinks on it, “yeah maybe, if you Disillusion yourself you can come back up to the room with me and we can look at it.”

Severus nods, then returns to his food. Harry notices how carefully he cuts bitesize pieces, layering together a bit of everything for maximum flavour combinations. It’s a very Severus way to eat he thinks, he’s always so deliberate in everything he does.

“You must’ve been great at school,” Harry sighs.

Severus blushes and shakes out his hair so it goes in front of his shoulders. “I suppose I tried. I did well enough until sixth year but ended up with few N.E.W.T.s and only one O.”

“What’d Professor McGonagall say to that?” Harry wonders out loud. She’s always so disappointed when he gets a grade lower than EE for anything.

“We weren’t friends then, Harry, I’m not sure she cared.” Harry is very sure she did, Professor McGonagall may have her favourites but she wants everyone of her students to succeed. He can’t imagine anything would change that. Not even – 

“Was that when you - ”

“I would _really_ rather not talk about it,” Severus interrupts. His tone is sharp, his eyes dark. The dog responds immediately and stands up to sidle next to Harry. “I’m sorry,” he corrects, “not here, not now. When we’re back at school if you really want to know. Think on it before you ask again and I’ll tell you anything.”

Harry nods. Pats Severus’ hand across the table. Muggle pubs aren’t the place for these kinds of conversations.

"I've been thinking on what to do when school starts again," he says to change the topic. "Could you help me get him to Hogwarts? He won't be allowed to stay in the castle but maybe Hagrid will help."

 

It's been such a treat to have Severus to himself that Harry is almost sad when the Weasleys and Hermione arrive. He just manages to finish the last of the summer homework before they showed up and Hermione looks it over for him. It takes Ron about three minutes to get bored with this talk of school and when he starts complaining Hermione vows not to help him with his last-minute rush. She does it anyway.

  

On the train Harry has his first encounter with a Dementor and professor Lupin chases it off. In Severus’ quarters that night he gets two refills of his hot chocolate. Severus looks awful so while he’s in the shower Harry asks for Daphne.

“Could you get me the ingredients for brownies from the kitchens?”

“I could make you brownies, sir.”

“I’d rather do it with Severus, if that’s alright. I’d really appreciate the ingredients however, we’ve not had a chance to do groceries.”

She gives a little head bob and disappears. When she reappears with flour and eggs and everything else, Harry takes some time to ask her how she’s been. She’s slowly getting used to him.

Harry is putting the brownies into the oven when Severus appears in the kitchen in soft leggings, woollen socks, a huge jumper.

“Brownies?”

Harry nods and smiles at him. Severus sighs deeply, forcing himself to relax.

“Forty minutes to sit around while these cook, will you please tell me what has you so tired?”

Harry folds into his armchair and Severus does the same, flicking an extra log into the fire with his wand. They each cradle a mug of tea. It’s getting late.

“Dementors, they...” Severus starts, blowing into his mug. “Affect me. More than most people it seems.”

“You haven’t fainted yet,” Harry tries to joke. It earns him a small smile.

“I’ve been working on a potion, the last few days. It’s rather complex and I want to improve it. I’ll be working on it a lot this year.”

“I’ll help if I can,” Harry promises. Which earns him a proper smile. Severus looks better clean with his hair up. Wrapped in warm clothes. The oven timer dings and Harry goes to fetch the pan. They sit on the carpet together, pan on the stone floor in front of the fire and eat the brownies with forks.

“Don’t know why I bothered cutting them,” Harry mumbles around a forkful of gooey chocolate.

Severus chuckles, “I doubt we’ll finish all of this, I’ll put the rest away in the squares you cut so meticulously.”

 

The dog gets along well with Fang and lets Hagrid call him Snuffles. Hagrid feeds him and lets him sleep next to Fang in front of the fire, and Harry comes to see him almost every day. Dogs aren’t allowed in the castle, but everyone from Gryffindor knows he’s Harry’s dog. Even Crookshanks likes him and sometimes he shows up inside anyway, having some uncanny knack for avoiding teachers. One time he makes it into Harry’s dorm, to the surprise of the boys. They spend the night talking about dogs instead of what girl Dean wants to kiss now which makes Harry _very_ happy. He’s missed the warm weight of the dog on his feet at night. Crookshanks and Snuffles both seem to hate Scabbers, which creates some friction with Ron.

 

Harry learned right after the train ride not to mention professor Lupin to Severus. The class with the boggarts made everything worse. Hermione seems to have been the only one that noticed Harry didn’t find Neville’s Riddikulus funny at all, which was good. Still. Severus is pale, he’s not sleeping well, he’s irritable.

 

The first Hogsmeade visit is announced and Harry isn’t allowed to go. He sulks in Severus’ rooms for hours then goes for tea with professor Lupin. After tea he sneaks back down. 

“I’m sorry I was cranky all day,” he whispers before going back to the dorms. They’d spent the afternoon working on a new bruise paste that worked faster than the 4-8 hours most versions take. Harry loves experimenting with Severus, who gets so absorbed in his work, stirring with one hand, taking notes with the other, barking out instructions on how to cut, how to slice.

 “Quite alright,” Severus promises from his armchair, “I understand feeling left out.”

Harry wants to ask how but he thinks it might upset Severus if he does. He offers him one of the pumpkin-shaped chocolates instead.

That night, Sirius Black attacks the Fat Lady, and they’re all made to sleep in the Great Hall. Harry is very worried that he’ll have a nightmare, but he listens to Severus talk quietly and swish his robes around and he sleeps quite well. Better than he has in a while.

 

Severus hates how well Harry and professor Lupin get along. Harry never asks why. He talks to the dog about it instead. Snuffles whines softly and begs to be scratched behind his ears, which Harry thinks is a much nicer problem to have. But then what does he know of how dogs think.

 

When Harry falls off his broom during the Quidditch match, he wakes up to his friends, his broken broom, and the sure knowledge that Severus is Disillusioned right _there_. It banishes the last of the cold dread he’s come to associate with Dementors from his stomach. The corner of the hospital wing shimmers as Severus leaves. That night, Severus starts teaching him to clear his mind. They practice every time Harry spends the evening in Severus’ quarters and go through many different ways of focusing before realizing that balls of energy or counting to 20 over and over again don’t do anything for Harry. The image of flying through a blue sky lets Harry block out almost every kind of thought.

 

The twins give Harry their map and he goes to Hogsmeade. He hears professor McGonagall talk about Sirius Black being his godfather and he flees. Runs straight back to the castle. Confesses everything to Severus.

“Harry,” Severus does his ‘I’m so reasonable and calm’ voice, Harry’s on the sofa and Severus is standing in front of him. Imposingly tall. “You know it’s dangerous for you to leave school grounds.” 

“He’s found his way in before hasn’t he?” Harry throws back, angry at himself for going out, angry at the adults for failing to protect him. _Worried, worried, worried,_ makes him feel guilty. “I’m sorry,” he corrects himself. “You’re right of course, and I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t do that again,” Severus sighs, sinking down onto sofa next to Harry. _Graceful_ , Harry thinks. Controlled movements.

“Between the dead parents, the mass murderer for a godfather, and the Dursleys,” Harry tries to sound cheerful and fails miserably, “I’m lucky you’re so good at cushioning charms.”

Severus pats his hand carefully, and Harry lets his head fall down onto Severus’ shoulder, curls his feet under himself. Sobs. Just once.

“Do you still want to know why I know what it feels like to be left out?”

“I do,” Harry tells him, “but I’m even more interested in knowing why you tell me painful stories about yourself whenever I feel down.”

Severus chuckles and wraps an arm around Harry. Harry snuggles closer. “Misery shared? I’m not good at these things, I just try to do what works and not do what doesn’t work. It seems to distract you from feeling bad when you get to focus on my misfortune.”

Harry hums, he wishes the dog were here. They could all pile onto the sofa together. “I get uncomfortable around people that are upset too,” Harry confesses, “I think you do well.”

“Thank you,” Severus sounds very sincere. Harry is reminded of hot chocolate, the snakes, art supplies to draw plants.

“So how do you know?”

“I was bullied in school,” Severus starts, soft and low, “before and at Hogwarts. Your mum was my only friend for a long time, when she was busy, I often just... Didn’t know what to do with myself.”

Harry’s heart aches. He remembers being bullied by Dudley and his little gang, being scared of going to school, scared of going home, not having anyone to talk to. Severus didn’t even have friends in his own house at Hogwarts, he must have been –

“Even in the dorms?” Harry whispers.

Severus hums. It’s hollow, Harry thinks, to be hurting for someone else.

Not sure how to ask what he wants to know Harry settles on: “Is that why you wanted to help Ginny last year?”

“What you’re asking is if people thought I was weird when I was simply uncomfortable. They did.”

“Wish I could’ve been there,” Harry whispers, “wish I could’ve been your friend then.”

“Sometimes,” Severus whispers, swallows, tries again, “I’m afraid that you wouldn’t have been. That I’d be too intense, too awkward, too strange even for you.”

Harry sits up and looks at him. He knows Severus beliefs what he just said, but just because it’s not a lie doesn’t make it true.

“Severus,” he says very slowly, scanning his face, “I was bullied at school and I was bullied at home. I don’t like bullies, it’s why I can’t stand Malfoy. He bullies his own friends.”

Severus looks back, blinks, takes a deep breath. They’re very close together on the sofa. Severus’ arm is still around Harry’s shoulder.

“I don’t know what it would have been like but I promise you that me being in Gryffindor and me having other friends wouldn’t have stopped me. I doubt all the other things you’re thinking about would’ve mattered.”

It rings with _truth_. He hopes Severus hears it too.

 

Harry finds a clearing in the woods one day with all sorts of mushrooms. The map he got from the twins helps him stay within the protective wards of the school and the dog seems to love the map. He knows he’s not supposed to be in the Forbidden Forest and after meeting the Acromantulas he even knows why, but it’s so nice and quiet that he can’t keep away. The dog also likes the forest and seems to know his way around, with or without the map.

Harry lies down in the forest, stretching out under the cover of the trees, between the mushrooms. The dog lies down next to him. When Harry tells the dog about Black being his godfather, how worried he is that he’ll come for Harry again, the dog whines and cries so much that Harry decides not to mention these things anymore. He really does seem to understand a lot of English. With a heavy head on his stomach, he calms the dog down. Softly shushing him, petting his ears.

 

The clearing, no matter the amount of snow that covers the grounds around it, stays clear. Harry wonders what spells might be at work, it feels warmer in the clearing, he feels safe.

  

For Christmas Harry gets two books from Severus, the Ramayana and the Mahabharata. There’s also a notebook that has strange scribbles in it. The books are huge and look fascinating, so Harry bounces down the steps to the dungeons to tell Severus. Severus is curled up in his chair reading the copy of Thousand and One Nights that Harry found at a second-hand store in Diagon Ally over summer.

“Merry Christmas,” Harry announces cheerfully. “What’s the scribbles?”

“An attempt at creating a script for Parseltongue. I’ve written all the sounds I know but maybe you can help me fix it?” 

“What a good idea!” Harry grins. “If you’ve time this afternoon I’d like to give you part two of your present.”

Severus looks at him strangely, “there’s no need for a part two, Harry. I’m very happy with this.”

“Kindness,” Harry tells him, he loves Christmas. “So this afternoon?”

“I’m on duty all day today and tomorrow,” Severus says, “I could -”

“It’s alright, it’ll keep. The day after,” Harry tells him happily, then leaves for breakfast.

 

Two days later, he drags Severus into the forest. It’s only three in the afternoon, but the sun sets early in winter this far up north. The dog joins them and they walk to the clearing together. Severus gapes at the mushrooms and Harry sighs in relief. He really was worried that Severus would know of this place already. 

“Can you point out the edible ones?”

“Absolutely. Why do you want to pick mushrooms?”

“To cook dinner.”

They work quickly, picking a large basket full of mushrooms, leaving the forest before it gets properly dark. They speculate on what could be keeping the clearing free of snow the whole time. Harry covers himself with his cloak, and they go straight to Severus’ quarters. Severus gets fresh herbs from his greenhouse, then finds Harry cleaning mushrooms in the kitchen.

“You’re thirteen Harry,” he says, looking cross. “How are you this good at cooking?”

Harry isn’t sure what he’s done wrong, but Severus can normally tell when he’s lying so he stopped trying to a while ago. “I cook a lot at the Dursleys.”

Severus mumbles under his breath but helps Harry clean and slice mushrooms. He calls for Daphne, who brings them tomatoes and bread. They make an enormous pot of mushroom stew that smells fantastic, and Harry brings a bowl back up to the Gryffindor common room when they’re both too full to even think about food anymore. Hermione eyes it suspiciously when he steps through the portrait hole, and he touches the necklace she knows is there through his shirt before lying to Ron that he got it from the kitchens. The three of them eat it while curled up around each other on the couch with spoons Hermione has conjured.

 

Severus gets a book called ‘Feasting from the Forest’ for his birthday, with notes on plants and herbs and recipes. He also gets a silver comb for his hair. It has a simple design but is clearly well made and suits the true black of his hair perfectly. He learns how to pin up his hair with it and does so almost every time Harry and he brew together or share a hot chocolate. Harry suspects he had to ask professor McGonagall for help but knows Severus will never tell him if he did.

  

Professor Lupin tries to teach Harry to summon a Patronus by having him focus on a happy memory. He won’t say what memory he uses for himself or even what his Patronus looks like. Harry tries to focus on the feeling of flying first, but it doesn’t work. Thinking of seeing the garden full of flowers on his 13th birthday helps, but his mind drifts from there to the ourobouros, the snakes, the books. He asks Hermione if he can borrow the book on Wizarding traditions so he can reread it.

 

“Professor Lupin won’t tell me what memory he uses for his Patronus, how am I to know what sort of memory would work?” Harry complains, setting his book bag down on the carpet and lying down next to it. Severus laughs, then lies down too, on the other side of Harry’s bag. He’s in leggings and a huge knitted sweater, uncharacteristically light coloured. Navy. His hair is pulled up, away from his face. Harry knows what he’ll smell like, even from across the carpet where all he smells is the wool of the carpet and the wood fire.

Cardamom, cinnamon, laundry powder. Shampoo, clean, soft, wool.

“It’s rather private, your best memory. Memories in general I suppose.”

“What’s yours?”

“This of course,” Severus laughs. But Harry knows he isn’t lying.

 

The third Hogsmeade weekend arrives and Severus is tired of Harry moping about not being allowed to go. Especially with Harry worrying about Hagrid and Buckbeak. So, he takes him to Edinburgh. 

“Pick a movie,” he says, when they’re standing in a theatre, wearing boring Muggle clothes.

“I’ve never been to a movie before,” Harry whispers, “can you help me?”

Severus frowns at him, “not even for birthday parties?”

Harry shakes his head, feeling uncomfortable and itchy. The lady at the counter looks at them both, shrugs, and recommends Batman. “Starts in half an hour, plenty of time to get some snacks.”

Severus pays, and drags him to the counter where he buys Harry a drink and popcorn. Harry’s having the best day since Christmas before they’ve even sat down. “Thank you, Severus,” he whispers across the dark, munching on the popcorn one at a time, wanting it to last. Severus looks tired, as he always seems to these days.

“You’re welcome,” Severus grabs a handful of popcorn and Harry spends the next hour and a half not talking not moving just staring at the screen. Movies are so much better when they’re not on television, he thinks, no wonder Dudley doesn’t ever care enough to watch the whole thing and ends up clicking away.

Back at the castle, it’s torture not to be able to talk about Batman and the Joker and Andrea with his friends in Gryffindor, so he rattles on and on about it to Severus, who seems mostly amused.

“I’m sorry,” Harry says when he realizes he has been talking for ages, “tell me about your day.”

“Don’t be, I’m glad two hours and less than 20 pounds could provide you with such entertainment, that I could be a part of it.”

“I’m easily amused?” Harry wrinkles his nose.

Severus pats his hand. “I loved it just as much, especially how they showed that short moments can have an enormous impact on how you choose to live and view yourself.”

Harry nods carefully and takes a deep breath. “What if _Batman_ had stopped _Andrea_ from leaving? I think - ”

 

“Were you ever in love?” Harry asks when they’re walking through the forest during the Easter holiday. Severus stops in his tracks.

“Why do you ask?”

“Everybody keeps talking about it,” Harry complains, “we had that thing with Madame Pomfrey, and then Dean constantly likes girls that don’t like him.”

“What are you worried about?”

“Fine, if you don’t want to answer, don’t.” Harry kneels down to dig out some dandelions and stuff them into the bag he’s carrying. Severus reaches out to cut down some candlestick. 

“You want to talk about it, so tell me what’s bothering you. Please.”

Deep breath. “Just. Wondering if I’m late or broken, I suppose.”

“I think you’ve had rather more on your mind than most children your age. It’ll come.”

Harry looks at Severus, who seems to be in pain somehow, like when Fluffy bit him. He hums instead of replying.

“If it doesn’t,” Severus tells him, “and that happens, some people don’t, ever. That’s also ok. Not broken, just different.”

“Can you teach me a silencing spell that works all night for my bed?” Harry switches the topic away from things that apparently hurt Severus.

“Excuse me?” Severus’ cheeks are suddenly stained red.

“The nightmares,” Harry frowns. “Wakes the other boys up.”

  

Preparing for the end of term exams has Harry spread scrolls of notes, books and essays, drawings and diagrams, all over Severus’ carpet.

“I’m sorry, I’ll clean up,” he sighs when Severus comes back from brewing and carefully steps over the mess. He reeks of sweat and potions. His shoulders are tired, his hair is tired, his hands are scrubbed red.

“That’s alright. You can leave it here, just try to keep it from overtaking the whole room.” Severus sighs, sinking all the way into his armchair. He’s asleep in seconds, so Harry fetches him a throw and takes off his shoes. It says a lot that Severus doesn’t even move while Harry opens the boots and pulls them off. Harry turns the fire down and uses Lumos to keep reading. He wonders what about this year has Severus so on edge, more even than last years’ Basilisk or Quirrell the year before. He tries to read about dangerous beasts for his Defence exam and finds himself worrying about Severus instead. It might just be the Dementors, and he really doesn’t like professor Lupin. And he has been working on that potion. Normally new potions give Severus a manic kind of energy, but this one seems to worry him.

Harry fishes through his scrolls for the Defence essay on werewolves that Severus had set them, reading it through again. He should know this it wasn’t that long ago...

And then it all clicks. Lupin is a werewolf. Of course. He looks up to stare at Severus, who is still asleep, his brow worried, his expression pained. He’s _scared_. Harry scrambles to the kitchen to make both of them a big mug of hot chocolate, knowing just the smell might be enough to calm Severus down a little.

Severus doesn’t wake up until Harry sits in front of his chair on the floor and grabs Severus’ hand. He blinks, then smiles down at Harry, wider still when he sees the mug. It earns Harry a long index finger carefully tracing his cheek in such unguarded tender affection that it makes him want to cry. It is enough.

 

Harry scratches ‘in the whomping willow’ into his pebble while crawling through the tunnel with Hermione. Professor Lupin petrifies Severus with a well-aimed Petrificus Totalus and Harry cries in Severus’ arms, curled up in his lap, when it’s all over. “Unfair,” he sobs, “I don’t want to go back to the Dursleys. I don’t want to lie about liking you. I want Sirius to be here if I can’t live with him.”

Severus pets his hair, hugs him tight, telling him about the time he almost died in the Shrieking Shack, how Sirius had led him there, and how scared he’d been for himself, for Harry, until his voice is hoarse. They sit quietly while Harry exhausts himself crying. Severus whispers about _brave_ and _strong_ and _so, so loved_. It’s the first time anyone has ever said that to Harry and it shuts him right up. He remembers how he finally managed a Patronus by focusing on the feeling of belonging and warmth that comes with Ron and Hermione and Snuffles and most of all, sitting on Severus’ lap in front of a fire. Love, he thinks, settling down.

“Professor Lupin will be fired now, won’t he? He’ll leave.”

“I believe so,” Severus soothes.

“Better fired than dead or Obliviated I suppose,” Harry sniffles and Severus laughs softly.

“It’ll be good for Black and Lupin to spend some time together.”

It’s a very strange thing to say so Harry leans back to look at Severus’ face. “Who are you?”

Severus huffs, “I don’t like them but they’re clearly devoted to you and they were together for most of Hogwarts. I imagine they will have a lot to talk about and sort through.”

 

At the end of year feast Harry stares at Severus so much that he misses the commotion happening at the other end of the table at first. Severus looks tired still, he thinks. They’re probably both glad the summer should give them some time to just read and draw and chat.

“Oliver Michael Wood,” Percy’s voice sounds pompous as always and Harry rolls his eyes before turning to look at what’s happening. Percy is standing next to Oliver, who is still sitting at the Gryffindor table. They’re looking at each other intensely. Silence falls over the Gryffindor table first, then spreads as people turn as hush and prod each other.

“Never seen Percy look at a person like they’re a particularly boring rule before,” Ron jokes from the corner of his mouth. Hermione shushes him.

Oliver nods, and Percy continues: “First, I present you with this ring...”

“Oh god,” Ron groans, “he’s proposing.”

The whole Great Hall is quiet as Percy fumbles with something, then waits for Oliver to say ‘I accept’ before sliding the ring onto his finger. They hug happily for a long time while people around the hall cheer.

“What just happened?” Dean asks quietly.

“Percy just initiated a proper Wizarding courtship,” Hermione starts in her lecturing tone. Harry tunes out easily and focuses on the last pudding he’ll be seeing for some time.

 

Dudley’s diet means there’s even less opportunity for Harry to eat in the house, but Petunia wants her garden to look like it did last year since all the neighbours are now doing it too. Harry tells her truthfully that it’s hard and time-consuming and he’ll need to research it. She gives him some money to buy seeds and bulbs and Severus sneaks him potions to help the flowers grow even if they were planted in the wrong season. Harry sets up a planting scheme for the next year, makes boxes with the months and instructions for what needs to be done per month in the shed, knowing full well that he’ll be expected to perform a flower miracle like some circus pony until he moves out now.

“I’m sorry for making you have to do all this extra work,” Severus tells him, frowning. “It really was not my intention, I can come help or maybe at night I could –”

“Severus.” Harry interrupts him, “before I was doing hours in the garden on plants I dislike and hours in the house cooking food I never got to eat. This is infinitely better. I’m outside, I like gardening. You did good.”


	5. Year 4 - Real Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dudley’s diet means there’s even less opportunity for Harry to eat in the house, but Petunia wants her garden to look like it did last year since all the neighbours are now doing it too. Harry tells her truthfully that it’s hard and time-consuming and he’ll need to research it. She gives him some money to buy seeds and bulbs and Severus sneaks him potions to help the flowers grow even if they were planted in the wrong season."
> 
> Harry returns to Hogwarts for his fourth year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: Thank you LuckyWaters for your careful reading. Oliver Wood is no longer the captain in Harry's fourth year.

Harry has a suspicion for what he might be getting for his birthday this year and he can’t wait. He gets cakes from all his friends, as well as Sirius, so he can have something to eat. In the morning he sneaks out early to celebrate his birthday with Severus for the first time. Severus meets him outside the library wearing very boring Muggle clothes that Harry doesn’t like at all and he takes him to a small pub near the library where a friendly black lady serves them both a full English and the dark smoky kind of tea Severus likes. The pub is completely empty. When they’ve finished eating, Severus takes Harry to raised stage along the wall of the pub, sits down behind the piano and plays some scales. He looks around, then discretely prods the piano with his wand, plays some more scales, and tucks his wand away again.

Harry joins him on the piano stool, there’s just enough space for both of them. He can feel Severus inhale shakily and exhale slowly. _He’s nervous_ , Harry thinks, and for some reason this makes him feel even more anticipation. Severus plays a song, slow and sweet. There’s obvious joy and affection in the song, but it’s the quiet sort. When the last tones have faded, the air is thick and heavy. For just a moment, Harry contemplates forcing a confession. He thinks of asking Severus to finally tell him how the ourobouros ring was passed down through his family and leans his head on Severus’ shoulder instead.

They hear the lady come back out from the kitchen and Severus plays ‘Happy Birthday’ to break the tension. All three of them laugh and clap and sing along.

Back at the library, Harry sits down at his table to do some schoolwork, and Severus sets a present down in front of him. Harry opens it to find a Discman. He can tell it’s the newest type because Dudley has one too. Inside the Discman is a CD that Harry knows will have a recording of Severus playing his song on it. He hugs Severus for a long moment.

He writes to Hermione and Ron about the Discman, though he lies to Ron about buying it for himself. On his next foray into town for seeds and bulbs and more fertilizer, he uses some of the money Severus had converted for him to buy CDs of piano music, and one of the Beatles because he’s heard Petunia say they’re awful. Hermione writes back to tell him she’ll bring some CDs from home to school.

He wonders if Hermione already suspects what he suspects from the birthday presents Severus gives him. He tells himself he won’t bring it up and won’t deny it if she does. He also tells himself he should tell Ron this year. Ron has never told anyone something that Harry told him in confidence, and he doesn’t like hiding such a part of his life from his friend.

 

The Quidditch World Cup is magnificent but Harry can’t stop thinking about not being able to tell Severus he was going. There hadn’t been time between receiving the invitation and being picked up and now he hasn’t had a moment alone. He actually lies to Ron about having to use the bathroom so he can scratch a message into his pebble.

‘Picked up by Weasleys,’ he writes, ‘safe and at the Quidditch Cup!’

Severus replies quickly, ‘glad to hear you’re safe.’ Then, ‘please be very careful tonight.’

The night is, obviously, awful. Hermione is rattled like her whole world view was just ripped out from underneath her. In a way Harry thinks maybe it was. After all the chaos and fear Harry and the rest take forever to get away from the camping grounds.

‘Did you know?’ Harry writes when he’s in bed at the Burrow.

‘I suspected.’ Comes back. They don’t talk for the rest of the week that Harry’s at the Burrow and it makes Harry uncomfortable. All of it does.

 

When the Hogwarts Express arrives, it’s raining, during the Feast, the ceiling shows that it’s raining. In Severus’ quarters, it’s raining. Harry drags the sofa around and close to the large window so they can stare at the clouds and the lake as it pours. Severus sits down next to him and hands him his mug with hot chocolate.

Harry rests his head on Severus’ shoulder and feels him let out a breath that sounds like he’s been holding it all week. Maybe he has been.

 “Politics,” he starts, “matter.”

Severus nods, he feels it through his hair. His too long – slightly shaggy hair. Should get it cut.

“I think...” Harry takes a sip of the hot chocolate, which is perfect in a way no other hot chocolate has ever been. Only from Severus’ kitchen. “I think I’m ready to hear.”

“They don’t trust me, haven’t for years. Whispered about me being a spy before I was one, about my lack of loyalty, commitment to the cause. I was useful, for potions, for research, but I doubt I was ever trusted.”

“You weren’t there, were you invited?”

“How do you know I wasn’t there?”

Harry snorts, “I would have felt it if you were.”

“I wasn’t invited.” Severus lets out another long, slow breath. “Please don’t make me defend myself,” he begs quietly. “Please take my word for it.”

“I’m not Dumbledore,” Harry whispers, crawls a little closer, “I’m yours. On your side.”

“But you doubted me, doubted if I’d known and not warned those poor Muggles.”

“Not really,” Harry surprises himself by saying. It’s the truth regardless. “That doesn’t mean thinking about what you were doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I can disagree with some past version of you if you agree with that past version of you too, can I not?”

“Never believed it,” Severus confesses, “just... Easier to pretend I did. To be safe, to fit in, to...”

“Hide a part of yourself you never liked anyway,” Harry finishes for him. Severus nods.

“It’s pathetic and hypocritical of course. Worse almost than if I’d actually been convinced of the cause. Something about a special place in hell for those who fail to stand up for what they believe in.”

Harry has to think on that. “Not sure I agree. Besides how deep we could go into the philosophy of this, there is such a thing as being practical and staying alive and doing what you can.”

Severus smiles a slow sad smile. “Could’ve known you would say that.”

Leaning closer, grabbing Severus’ hand, folding his legs in tighter.

“Let’s have a slow year, this time,” Severus suggests. "Despite the inevitable lessons in _constant vigilance_ Professor Moody will be inflicting upon all of us."

“Not sure I know what those are, slow years,” Harry giggles. “I’ll try.”

 

Harry’s name comes out of the Goblet of Fire and once again he’s the focus of gossip and speculation. He wishes Sirius was at Hogwarts still, that he didn’t need to hide with Buckbeak somewhere far away. He waits in the room next to the Great Hall to hear if he’ll be allowed not to participate. Severus believes him immediately but then Harry has never been able to lie to him. He gets called arrogant no less than three times in the ensuing tirade that he knows is for show not just because of the mention of arrogance, but because he feels it. He has to bite his lip until his eyes water and look away not to grin. Wants nothing more than to be wrapped up in Severus’ cloak where he knows it’s warm and he’s safe.

“Ugly snake,” he mutters under his breath, and he knows Severus’ has heard him from the twitch in his mouth, the glint in his eye, the way he looks at the ceiling. In Harry’s pocket sits the box of chocolates.

 

Ron is awful to him and doesn’t deserve the truth. The gossiping makes Harry’s skin crawl, the staring makes him want to cry, he’s always too warm, too cold, uncomfortable. It helps when Severus takes his hand, makes him sit down and draw leaves, makes him chat with the snakes for an hour, read a book in front of the fire for a little while.

 

Yelling at Severus in class becomes fun for the first time when almost every one of their insults have been included in their ever-expanding list of code. Arrogant, _still friends_. Incompetent, _please come by later_. Like your father, _well done on that potion_.

 

When he’s not worrying about the Triwizard Tournament, he’s worried about schoolwork, Sirius, what it means that Death Eaters are acting up.

“I’ve done some research,” Severus tells him when Harry comes in late one night, itchy and irritated.

“What did you find?”

“The reason Animagi have to be registered is because almost none of the detection spells and other identification methods of the Ministry work on them.”

“Sirius is safe here?”

“If he’d be willing to live as Snuffles again.”

Harry nods and sinks into his chair. “It would help to have him around I think.”

“I thought so,” Severus says kindly. “How are you doing on your Herbology assignment?”

“Not great,” Harry confesses, “would you help me with it?”

“That depends,” Severus says, but Harry knows he means _of course_ , “have you advanced enough for it to be considered help rather than cheating?”

“You’re the one that keeps saying half the pure-blood children hand in summer homework that is in their mothers’ handwriting.”

“Poor Harry,” Severus grins at him, “always expected to do his own work.”

“Actually.” Harry looks up, “could you help me with something else?”

“Of course, what do you need?”

“I’m not sure I can do all of this, I was struggling to keep up with work last year and now the tournament, how will I make time without dropping a course?”

Severus walks over to the sofa where Harry has his exam schedule laid out in front of him. “Let me tell you first that you didn’t _barely manage_ , you got almost all O’s. That is extremely impressive.”

Harry looks at Severus. He’s not used to praise like this. He nods slowly.

“Oh, give it to me.” Severus takes the schedules and spreads them out on the floor. “Where is your planner?”

Harry picks it up and sits down next to Severus, who is kneeling over all the papers. “So what do I do?”

“You compile all of this information. Write everything from the schedules into your planner, then write in your planner when you need to start worrying about tests and exams.”

Harry nods and starts penning information down. Severus helps him by reminding him of other things that are happening, like Hogsmeade weekends.

“That’s not public information yet, is it?”

Severus chuckles, “but it isn’t a secret either. Here, look at these too.” He summons a scroll from the table, with the schedules for teachers.

“You’re telling me now when you’re free? Why?”

“So you can harass me of course,” Severus grins, “and so you know when to stay in your dorms at night. Maybe use a code when you write it down.” Harry changes the S he was writing to a little figure 8. “Like that, yes.”

Harry groans when he gets to December. “What is it?”

“Yule ball, we’ll have to bring dates.”

Severus sits up and looks at Harry curiously, “have you given thought to who you’d like to ask?”

“Not at all.”

“You could ask Miss Granger of course, if you want to go for friendship. You could ask someone you might like to go out with on other occasions.” Severus laughs when Harry pulls a face. “Not a romantic interest then.”

“There aren’t many people I could stand to touch all night.”

“That is an argument for the option of bringing a friend. You could also go for politics of course.”

Harry stares at Severus, wrinkling his nose. “What, like Malfoy?”

“Like Mr. Diggory. Or Miss Delacour if you’d prefer. A third year that otherwise wouldn’t be able to attend.”

Harry thinks about that. He could tell Cedric that it was for Hogwarts, that they could show they’re united, and that after the first dance they’d both be free to dance with other people. It was a good idea.

“I’ll think on it. I’m planning you in for dancing lessons. How’s Saturdays after Quidditch for you?”

 

During the Hogsmeade visit in November, Severus motions with his head for Harry to follow him when they see each other in the streets. Harry makes something up about quills and ink and trots off. Severus meets him in an alley.

“Harry, I’ve thought of something and I want to test my hypothesis,” Severus seems nervous, as if he’s not sure he’s allowed to ask.

“Alright, how can I help?”

“I’d need to see inside your vault, and we might need permission from Black.”

Harry thinks for a moment, then nods. “Apparate me there.”

Severus has that look on his face that he gets when Harry teases him. Harry is starting to think it might be the anticipation of rejection that makes him look like that, so he waits patiently for it to pass.

They Apparate onto the steps of Gringotts and walk in. Severus wears his thunder face and Harry asks the Goblin behind the counter politely to be taken down to his vault. Severus drops his attitude the second they leave the central hall.

Severus asks the Goblin for his name and is informed in an arch tone that it’s Urg. This makes Severus look amused.

“Your parents must really hate wizards,” he states, and the Goblin nods.

Severus asks Urg about Harry’s vault, and nods as if he was expecting it to be so when Urg tells them it’s a spending vault.

“How many others are there?” Harry asks.

“Three,” Urg says after a moment of hesitation. “Saving, books and artefacts, and emergency.”

Severus explains that the savings account can only be accessed once a year and requests access to the books and artefacts vault for Harry. They’re standing in front of the spending vault now.

“Need the guardian for that,” Urg tells them.

“Do you accept a Patronus as identification?” Severus asks, and Urg nods.

“Harry,” Severus says. “If you’d conjure a Patronus and tell it to go ask Black for permission to access your vault, that should work.”

“My Patronus?” Harry asks, “could you do it? I’m not sure if I can hold it for that long.”

Severus actually blushes and says something about Sirius not liking him that makes both Urg and Harry snort. That might be part of the reason, but Harry would bet his Firebolt it’s not the whole of it. Harry manages by focusing on the feeling he gets when he knows in his bones that Severus is close, then sends off his Patronus with a flick of his wrist. Not a minute later a dog looking exactly like Snuffles appears.

“I, Sirius Orion Black, hereby authorize Harry James Potter for access to any and all possessions of his by right or inheritance kept or stored at Gringotts Bank. Nice stag, Harry!”

Urg nods, then leads them to the next vault over. For the first time, Harry notices that four vaults have the same symbol on the door of a black triangle with a circle and a line carved into it. The other vaults in the row have different symbols or none at all.

They step into the vault, which is bigger than the one Harry knows and lined with shelves upon shelves of books. There is a massive table in the middle that has stacks of books and strange items on it. There are clusters of multi-coloured chairs and stacks of tables and several beds around the vault. It reminds Harry a little of Dumbledore’s office, especially when the far wall starts cheering. A collection of paintings leaning against the wall is pointing and shouting and waking the occupants of other paintings up.

Harry runs over, feeling Severus follow. “Are my parents here?”

“Lily and James?” A portrait of an elderly lady with white hair in a thick braid over one of her shoulders asks.

Harry nods, and she looks at him fondly. “I’m Euphemia Potter. You must be Harry. Your parents never had any portraits made as far as I know. Judging by your age no one has been in here for a very long time, so I’m afraid I can’t tell you much about the last couple of years.”

“This is your grandmother, Harry,” Severus tells Harry, his voice low. Harry knows, he recognizes her from the mirror of Erised, but he nods anyway.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” he tells her. She grins at him, as do the other Potters. They look like him, except for their dark eyes. Many have darker skin than he does, and a number wear colourful robes that expose far too much skin to be useful in England in any type of weather.

“Sit,” Severus tells him, “talk to them. Tell them what happened to your family. I’ll have a look around if that’s alright with you.”

Harry smiles gratefully at him and sinks down to the floor. He hears Severus say something to Urg, who leaves them be. He answers the questions the portraits fire at him, asking questions about his family as they talk. Severus noses through books, looks in boxes, prods at some of the contraptions and brings Harry things to ask his family about every now and then. Euphemia tells him about the family jewellery with some help of her husband and others and Harry sets some of it aside to take with him. She tells him about the family line, where her cookbooks can be found, where the family chronicles are hidden on the shelves and what he should be doing with his messy hair. The big key ring Severus brings over at some point makes her eyes light up.

“A copy of every key the Potters own goes on there traditionally,” she tells them. “I suspect the ones to the house are still there, even though it burned down shortly after we died.”

Far too soon, Severus gently squeezes his shoulder and Harry knows it’s time to go. He takes everything Harry put on the pile to take with him to Hogwarts and puts it into one of the little pouches on his belt. Urg takes them back upstairs and Harry sends a Patronus to Sirius saying only ‘thanks’. He feels dazes and overwhelmed, and is grateful when Severus Apparates them back, somehow gets him to Hermione and instructs her to take him straight to his dorm. Harry casts a silencing spell around his bed and tells Hermione about the vault, the books, his grandparents.

 

That night, he finds out about the dragons. He writes Sirius, who has been staying in the next town after Hogsmeade with some lady when he’s not in London. Severus and Hermione help him prepare, again and again and again he practices summoning spells, defensive spells, protective spells. Sirius helps too, when he visits. Hagrid is always delighted to see Snuffles and Sirius likes being a dog sometimes.

 

“Could you pass me the ink?”

“Summon it,” Severus drawls. He’s holding the ink in his palm. Harry sighs and does as he was told, catching the jar easily. Severus nods happily.

“What are you working on?”

Harry feels his ears heat. “I promised myself some time to draw if when I finished the essay.”

“What will you be drawing? Should I look at the essay for you?”

“Oh yes please,” Harry sits up and goes to pick the scroll up, but Severus has summoned it wordlessly. Rolling his eyes at Severus for being a show-off, Harry picks up some clean paper and dips his quill in the ink.

“Dragons.”

“Excuse me.”

Harry looks at Severus, bracing for the inevitable teasing. “I want to draw dragons. I’ve been reading about them loads and they’re so cool and really rather like dinosaurs in many ways.”

He doesn’t get laughed at. Severus looks at him, head tilted, so clearly so very fond.

“Did you know,” Harry whispers, “that the Ukranian Ironbelly is almost ten times heavier than the largest flying dinosaur _ever_.”

 

Harry shares first place with Krum. Fleur makes fun of him for hanging on to ‘some Muggle device’ as he tries to stave off the panic but afterwards she apologizes and inquires discretely to the function of the machine. Severus brings him CDs of piano music, cello too, quiet and calming, when Harry tells him about breathing in through his nose, out through his mouth.

“Could I have transfigured something?”

“Perhaps,” Severus tells him, passing him a hot chocolate. “It would have required a lot of practice, animals aren’t easy, especially larger ones.”

Harry nods. “The dog was mostly stone again by the time it was my turn.”

“Power and precision,” Severus nods.

“What other ways are there to make it last?”

“Well, it would have been rather excessive for the situation but there are ways to keep pouring magic into the Transfiguration. If you can’t manage enough power in one go.”

“How?” Harry rubs his face and notices Severus staring at him.

“Blood magic, for one. Your magic is in your blood, it’s why the ourobouros makes your spine tingle. Eventually that runs out too, though.”

“Spines make blood?”

“They do,” Severus nods, “Read up on biology this summer please. There’s also tying it to something that will last longer, like elemental magic.”

“Is that why wards are tied to the earth?”

“Yes. Very good.”

 

Harry does end up asking Cedric. He’d told Cedric about the dragons after all, so now that he’d seen Harry wasn’t going to be lying, it is time to reaffirm the message of sticking together. He manages to catch Cedric alone after Quidditch practice, before the Hufflepuffs are up. Just because there aren’t matches doesn’t mean everyone that isn’t a seventh year is suddenly off the hook for training. Or so Angelina if-you-die-you’ll-have-to-help-me-find-a-new-Seeker Johnson says.

“Hey,” he jogs up, “do you have a minute?”

Cedric stops and turns around. He’s too handsome for his own good, Harry thinks vaguely. He’s a little out of breath from the running and doesn’t need to be making this worse, so he pushes the thought away. “Yeah, sure. Is this about the egg?”

“Oh no, I have given myself until Christmas to not think about it.”

Cedric laughs. Good, this is off to a reasonable start.

“Speaking of, have you got someone to go with yet?”

“Not really, I’ve been thinking of asking Cho, but it all seems far away still.”

Harry hums, “we’ve got time. I was.” Deep breath. “Wondering if you’d go with me? It’d paint a really good picture of unity I think, and you’d be free to dance with anyone after the first dance of course.”

Cedric looks at him oddly and Harry is acutely and desperately aware that his hair is too long, his Quidditch uniform is gross, and he’s three years and almost a foot behind Cedric. “I promise I’ll be wearing real clothes,” he adds and Cedric laughs. Perfect teeth too, _Merlin_. When Cedric flies he just looks artfully ruffled and extra masculine afterwards. Not at all like a sad sweaty ball of dirt.

“I think that’s a great idea, do you mind if I think on it?”

“Yeah,” Harry frowns. “Yeah, of course. I’ll see you around?”

 

He tries to complain to Severus about Cedric being stupidly handsome, but all he gets are sad frowns and deep sighs, poor attempts at humour. So, he gives up on that. When Cedric tells him a few days later that yes, great idea, let’s do it, Severus doesn’t seem as happy as Harry had expected him to be.

“At least I won’t have to learn how to lead now,” Harry grins.

“You should ask Mr. Diggory if he’d practice with you before, so you can get used to each other.”

Harry nods. “It’s a good idea. Much as I’d like to keep the touching to a minimum.”

Severus finally smiles at him properly. “No lifts then?”

They both laugh when Harry pretends to shudder at the thought.

 

Severus tosses the egg in his bathtub after hearing it shriek exactly once. It’s the first time Harry sees this bathroom and he is extremely distracted by the mosaic of the tiles, the fluffy bathmat and towels, the enormous tub with golden taps. Severus brings him a small amount of something green and slimy and tells him to chew on it and stick his head in the bathtub. Harry does as he’s told and hears the song.

“What was that?” He gasps, as the gills disappear right before he gets his head back up.

“Mermaid song, and gillyweed. Do you know how to swim?”

Harry shrugs and Severus groans. “If they haven’t changed it since last year, the password to the prefect bathroom is _pine fresh_. Practice in there and tell me when you’re ready to try cold water. Never swim in the lake without someone watching over you, _ever_.”

 

Dance lessons are wonderful. Severus has a gramophone in his quarters, and they push the armchairs to the side to dance across the carpet. In the beginning Harry is staring at his feet, trying to pull Severus along, stumbling over the steps, but slowly he gets better.

“I’m never going to be good at this,” he sighs, still holding on to Severus in between the music clicking over to the next song.

“There’s no need to be good,” Severus comforts him, smiling. He stands tall and proud, hair tied away from his face. “You just need to follow my lead.”

Harry mimics Severus’ posture. He’s been growing a lot, he’s not even the shortest boy in the year anymore. Not that he’s not over a foot shorter than Severus still, but at least Cedric won’t tower over him too much. At his eye-height is Severus’ chest, sometimes when they dance, he leans his head against it, and Severus slows down his steps to not jostle him. The arm on his back twitches down to his waist and hangs on a little tighter.

 

Severus helps Harry order new robes for the Yule Ball. ‘You’re representing Hogwarts now Harry’, he’d said _far_ too many times. After some back and forth with an associate of Madame Malkin, they’d come to the perfect design. Simple white trousers, simple white shirt, outer robes that are red and covered in intricate embroidered golden patterns. Severus had suggested getting short robes that were more jacket-style and only went to knees so he’d be able to dance. He’s allowed to wear the shiny black shoes that came with the green robes. The last Hogsmeade weekend before the ball he’ll go for a fitting.

“Have Mr. Weasley come with you to the appointment.”

“Why?”

An arched eyebrow. “Even I have heard him complain of his robes. Yours are dark green are they not?”

Harry grins. “When will I ever wear fancy robes again? I’ll just grow out of them.”

“Or so you hope,” Severus pats Harry on the head and laughs when he gets glared at.


	6. Year 4 - He's back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Severus helps Harry order new robes for the Yule Ball. ‘You’re representing Hogwarts now Harry’, he’d said far too many times."
> 
> The rest of year 4.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: Harry falls asleep in the library instead of during divination. Thank you LuckyWaters for pointing out to me that Harry isn't taking divination :)

“Has anyone ever taught you how to shave?” Severus asks, tone light but gentle as Harry moans about having to get dressed for the ball. It’s strange to think that in a few hours it’ll be over.

Harry shakes his head, cheeks stained. Who’d have taught him? He knows he’s been growing a bit of a moustache, some fuzz here and there, but it hasn’t really been bad enough to do anything about yet. Definitely not bad enough to ask Seamus to show him how to shave. Ron, Dean and Neville don’t need to at all, still.

“Here,” Severus hands him a leather rolled up bag. It has silver letters branded into the front. HJP, Harry traces them. 

“Shouldn’t have,” he frowns.

“Only way I know how to.” Severus motions with his head in the direction of the bathroom. Harry follows. Golden taps, shining mosaic. Severus does everything slowly, the towel, the foam, the grip, the slide. Harry stifles a giggle when Severus pulls strange faces to get his skin to lie smooth. Severus grins at him. Bright and happy, half-covered in white fluffy beard.

“Who taught you?” Harry asks, tilting his face to stretch out his neck.

“My dad, though neither of us had to shave as often as I suspect you will have to one day,” Severus says, then splutters as he gets some foam in his mouth. Harry laughs.

When they’re both done, Severus inspects Harry’s face, touches up the spots that he missed, whispers a healing spell where he’d cut himself. Very close, Harry can smell him. Warm human body. They rinse off their faces and apply some lotion that smells like cardamom and cinnamon and now Harry knows. It stings a little, his face feels strange, he’s oddly happy.

Severus explains taking care of the razor, the blade, where to get cream and soap, and Harry just stares at him.

“Could I leave it here? Just until after I get a chance to pretend to order it?”

“I’m sure you could talk your way out of it,” Severus smirks. “But you may leave it here, I’ll help you until you feel more comfortable with it.”

“Thanks.” Harry grins. “Gotta run now to get dressed.”

“See you soon,” Severus smiles at him and Harry feels a strange urge to touch him where he just shaved, smell the soap and cream and lotion.

 

Cedric laughs when he meets Harry in the Reception Hall before the Yule ball. He’s wearing beautiful floor-length silk robes in black with subtle yellow trimmings and a cummerbund-like yellow belt. Cedric bows and takes Harry’s hand, Harry grins back. Winks at Hermione over his shoulder. She looks stunning. Harry’s glad he got that haircut yesterday, that Severus has helped him shave. He feels smudgy and graceless next to Cedric as is. When they step onto the dancefloor they get into pairs and then into the triangle shape professor McGonagall had told them about. Harry is very grateful for the practice he’s had with Severus, as well as the time Cedric and he had spent over the last week getting used to each other. When the dance is over, he bows at Cedric, who bows back, and together they walk to the refreshment table.

“Are you going to ask Cho to dance now?” Harry grins at him.

“She’s here without a date because I asked her to.” Cedric smiles happily.

“Best not leave her waiting then,” Harry pushes into Cedric playfully and they laugh together. “Here, bring her a drink.”

Harry finds Ron, who looks much better in the bottle green then he ever could have in the maroon robes, even if they’d been let out all the way at the seam to accommodate his long arms. He’s chatting with the other Gryffindors at the table. All of them had asked each other; Seamus with Lavender, Dean with Mary, Ron with Parvati, and Neville with Elisabeth. Mary and Elisabeth are for once wearing nice robes. Harry teases them about missing gobstones practice for something as silly as a ball and they all laugh.

Harry distracts himself from staring at Severus, his hair clean and the good kind of shiny for once, by taking some of the girls for a spin. Tries not to pay too much attention to Severus dancing with the other teachers and a handful of seventh-year Slytherins. Harry dances with professor McGonagall and at the end of the song, Severus steps in close and takes professor McGonagalls hand with a question in his eyebrow. She nods happily, then thanks Harry over her shoulder. Harry’s stomach swoops and burns with jealousy.

 

After the ball, he curls up in Severus’ chair with the book on mythology and the journey of heroes he got for Christmas. He thinks quietly that this is far nicer than any dance could ever be. The book is not easy to read and Harry glares at Severus when he reads ‘the mythological path from immaturity to freedom’, knowing full well that he’s being assigned the role of hero by Dumbledore. He doesn’t understand everything that he reads, so he ends up asking a lot of questions. It distracts Severus from the book Harry got him.

“I’m never going to remember the difference between dwarfs and hobbits with you asking about the philosophical implications of equating the struggles of daily life with a hero’s battle.”

Harry laughs, “not my fault that you spent so much time drowning my summer homework in red ink that you never made it to Tolkien.”

“Brat,” Severus huffs, then launches into an explanation of the difference between stages and phases.

 

Sirius takes Harry to Edinburgh, and out for lunch. It takes some plotting to get Harry off school grounds but they manage with the cloak and Severus' help. They sit in a corner of the small Muggle pub and Sirius orders one of everything when Harry and he can’t decide. The table gets piled full of food, at least five different dishes, and they eat as they talk.

“Has he ever,” Sirius starts, swallowing some pie down. “Touched you or tried anything?”

“Really?” Harry wrinkles his nose. “That’s what you’re going with?”

“Just,” Sirius huffs. “I can’t be there because I’m supposed to be hiding. I need to know that whoever is there isn’t hurting you.”

“The Dursleys are the only people that treat me unfairly. Dumbledore maybe, considering how he lets us flail and only ever confirms things that we already knew.”

“It’s just... it’s Snivellus. I went to school with him, he was awful.”

“If I hear you call him that again I’m going to tell Molly Weasley I’m afraid you might have fleas,” Harry promises.

 Sirius shivers, “you sound just like him sometimes, did you know? You talk like him.”

“You were there all of last year were you not? Did you forget how much time we spend together, how he came for me the second I was in trouble?”

“I wasn’t in the best of spaces, mentally, for some of it,” Sirius starts, “but you’re right, I remember it all. Never thanked you for that have I?”

Harry tilts his head, too busy eating.

“Letting me stay, heal, be safe. You took me in without question.”

“Well yeah,” Harry shrugs, “you needed me, considering how starved and awful you looked at first. It was nice to have you around too, even if I didn’t realize I wasn’t talking to an actual dog.” 

Sirius laughs, it sounds like barking, which makes both of them laugh more. 

 

Severus has to work all day on Boxing Day, but he’s free the day after. They try out some recipes Harry found in one of the cookbooks in the vault. They’re handwritten but the instructions are clear enough. It took a trip to London to get all the ingredients, and the result is well worth the effort.

Harry lies in bed that night thinking of how Cedric had lit up when he was dancing with Cho. The dorm is still rather empty because it’s break, and he likes it this way. The lack of noise, no bragging about girls or Quidditch or complaining about school. _Who would I like to kiss?_ He likes Hermione and doesn’t mind touching her but wouldn’t ever want to kiss her. Who else is there? Dancing with Cedric had been nice. He’s handsome and makes Harry nervous, as does Cho, which is what the other boys say they feel about the girls they want to kiss.

 

For his birthday Harry gives Severus something from the vault. Euphemia’s portrait had told him it was given to those who went to battle to promote healing and provide protection. She also explained what charms should be placed on it and Hermione had helped him research and cast them. It’s a thin golden chain with a tiny flattened disk as a hanger. The disk has the imprint of a flower.

“Yarrow,” Severus whispers, and he seems happy so Harry shows him the chocolate brownies Dobby had let him bake in the kitchens. The other elves had been confused about him wanting to do his own baking but hadn’t complained.

 

Harry ties for first place with Cedric and can feel Severus think _damn hero complex_ and _reckless_ and _worried_. Sirius sits next to Hagrid and sprints through the crowds as soon as Harry appears. Wrapped in a blanket and nestled next to a warm dog, Harry can finally breathe again. He doesn’t get yelled at, even gets hot chocolate at breakfast every day for a week. He wonders if Severus asked the house-elves to do it or if it’s Dobby’s initiative, but every time he sees it appear, he touches the ourobouros around his neck.

 

Karkaroff storms into the potions classroom, worried and strange, and Harry tries to remember the last time he saw Severus with his sleeves rolled up. That night he demands to see and gasps when the Mark is darker. Almost black.

“Is it hurting?”

“I haven’t tried making it hurt,” Severus confesses, “and I haven’t been called.”

The snake on the Mark is moving a little now, so Harry speaks to it again. “ _You’re still a very pretty snake, but you really shouldn’t hurt my friend_.”

The snake flicks her tongue at him and hisses faintly. Severus tries to roll his sleeve back down, but Harry stops him. Two fingers on his wrist.

“No need to hide it when it’s just us.”

Severus makes a face, but it disappears quickly when Harry traces the Mark and its snake.

“You’re not afraid of me,” Severus whispers.

 “Severus,” Harry laughs, “you volunteer at a Muggle library for me, subjecting yourself to dunderheads and their children when you should be brewing and enjoying your break. You’re only just starting to trust that I won’t make fun of you, you gossip with our snakes, you talk to your plants. You stare at me all night when I’m in the hospital wing. You know I’m safest when I’m with you.”

Severus looks away, his nostrils flare a little, “I’ll have you know that I get plenty of brewing done in the evenings and on weekends during summer.”

Harry smiles at him, “I appreciate it.”

“If this gets worse,” Severus tells him quietly, nodding at his arm, “I might be busy over summer.”

“Good thing we have our pebbles then. Is this why you’re being friendly with Malfoy?”

Severus looks at him. “No Malfoy has ever been a friend to me. They are allies. Not with Dumbledore, but against Voldemort.”

“Doesn’t seem that way,” Harry mumbles, and Severus shoots him a long look. “Alright I get it, it’s not supposed to.”

 

During the Easter holidays Harry spends as much time as he can in the dungeons. Severus is out most days but comes back after dinner. On Wednesday Harry walks into Severus’ quarters and finds him spread out and asleep on the carpet. His trousers are muddy, his hair is gross and Harry grins.

“Was it raining today? Down south?”

Severus groans, then turns onto his side to blink at Harry. “I’m sleeping.”

“You’ll sleep much better if you’re clean and in pyjamas,” Harry tells him. “I’ll make hot chocolate.”

Severus comes out of the shower scrubbed pink and smelling wonderful. He’s wearing pyjamas and a bathrobe and curls up on one end of the sofa. Harry joins him and passes the hot chocolate. They each summon a book and Severus spreads the throw over their legs. 

“How do you do it?” Harry asks finally.

“Do what?”

“You’re exhausted now and I know you’re going to start grading soon and then get up in the morning to go do whatever it is you’ve been doing all the time and you’ll come back even more tired and I know you’re worried about the Mark.”

“Oh. How do I keep going?" 

Harry nods, grabbing onto a bony ankle under the throw. Severus startles but relaxes into the touch quickly.

“I tell myself that I can be greasy and angry and mean as much as I want if I just keep putting one foot in front of the other. And then I tell myself that I’m doing things that no one would expect of me.”

Harry blinks at him and Severus corrects himself. “Almost no one.”

“Spite?”

Huffing a small laugh, Severus leans his head down to rest on the edge of the sofa. “It gets me up in the morning.”

 

Harry falls asleep in the library and dreams of Voldemort, sees the memories in the Pensieve in Dumbledore’s office. He tells Severus that evening over hot chocolate, and Severus sits down on the carpet in front of Harry’s armchair. He puts a hand on Harry’s knee and it makes Harry want to scream and run and apply a permanent sticking charm so he’ll never ever let go. He stays perfectly still instead, taking in the look on Severus’ face. 

“That bad?” Harry says wryly.

“Was this the first time you had such a dream?”

Harry tells him about the dream he had over summer, about the headaches and the pain in his scar. About Dumbledore saying they had some connection.

“Did he carve a Protean Charm into me when he tried to kill me?” He finally dares ask.

“I don’t know, Harry,” Severus sighs. He tells Harry about magic, how it can be used to read someone’s mind, and the magic that can be used to protect your mind. Harry vows to clear his mind every night before going to bed. He remembers what Severus said about not even thinking of him in front of Dumbledore, and he understands.

 

Before the third task, Harry practices with Ron and Hermione every day, and with Severus every evening. Ron is very good at picking up healing spells and his Charms have improved since he got a new wand. Hermione reads anything she can get her hands on.

Severus makes him hit moving targets while firing hexes at his feet. Harry is exhausted every night and it helps with the nightmares. One time Harry has fallen on his face three times in the first ten minutes and having his twisted ankle healed when Severus says: “Why don’t we take the night off?” 

“Sure,” Harry grins. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’ll make us hot chocolate and you think of something for us to do. Does that sound ok?”

Harry nods happily and gets to work with pencils and a big stretch of parchment.

“Snakes and ladders?” Severus sighs as he comes back. “There’s no strategy in snakes and ladders.”

“Which is why I picked it.” Harry has drawn a board of squares and with ladders connecting some of the numbers. He’s just starting on the snakes. “Do you have dice? And what should we use to play?”

Severus Conjures two dice and tiny figures. One green, one red. They both stretch out on the carpet and play three games. Harry wins them all.

“How are you?” Severus asks when they’re lying on their backs, looking at the ceiling.

“Teacher or friend?”

Severus huffs. “Friend, we’re lying on the floor in my living room, remember?”

“Worried. I feel like everyone is looking at me. Waiting to see if I’ll win. I’m not even sure I want to win. I just want to make it through alright.”

“What do your friends think?”

“Hermione thinks I should read every book on defence in the library, she seems convinced I’ll die. The boys think I should be pranking more, drinking more, practicing Quidditch more. They don’t spend a lot of time thinking about the Tournament.”

“A rather enviable position.”

Harry hums. “What was your fourth year like?”

“I didn’t have an ex-Auror practising Unforgivables in class and I wasn’t being forced to participate in some deadly Wizarding extravaganza either,” Severus rolls over to his side to look at Harry. “I recall being mostly irritated by how uninterested the boys in my year were in everything I liked.”

“What did you like?” Harry looks into deep black eyes. Severus’ hair is nasty, like he ran his hands through it after cutting up Flobberworms. He looks exhausted, smells like Potions and fire. 

“Gobstones, Potions, learning new spells with your mother. Exploring the castle.”

“Can you teach me how to play Gobstones?” 

Severus pushes himself up to sitting and summons his set. “Of course.”

"You know," Harry says, when Severus is cleaning smelly gobstone stuff off of him. "Fighting is a little like dancing."

"What do you mean?"

"You have to be quick on your feet and pay attention to the other person."

Severus thinks on that for a moment. "I should say fighting is the opposite of dancing. When you dance you let your attention shrink down to only the other person and you try to communicate as clearly as possible what you're going to be doing at all times."

Harry hums thoughtfully. "Maybe you're right. One more game before curfew?"

 

Cedric dies in the graveyard, Voldemort is back, but Harry doesn’t break down until he realizes that Severus isn’t next to him in the hospital wing. His chair is there, but he isn’t, and Madame Pomfrey forces a sleeping draught down his throat when he tries to go looking for Severus. He can’t tell her what he needs, hiccoughing in his panic, hoarse from screaming and pain and fear. Sirius whines and cries when Madame Pomfrey doesn’t let him stay.

The next morning, Harry gives his prize money to the twins. He’s learned enough from Severus that when they offer him stock in the store, he tells them they can just get him free stuff instead. They nod in sync, more serious than he’s ever seen them. After that, after talking to Cedric’s family, he tries to find Severus. Madame Pomfrey has made it very clear what she’d do to him if he tried leaving the bed again, so he just listens for Severus. His voice maybe, or his breathing. The chair is empty, that much he knows. Hermione brings him some books and his Discman, but he doesn’t have the focus he needs for Campbell, so he rereads the Iliad. He doesn’t dare listening to music for fear of missing something. It takes until some time after lunch until he hears Severus’ voice.

He waits for Madame Pomfrey to leave for dinner in the Great Hall, then sneaks across the ward to the door he saw her come out of. He opens it slowly and carefully and finds a private room. Big enough for one bed and a chair off to the side.

“Poppy, please,” Severus groans, “no more potions.”

Despite everything, that makes Harry laugh, and he crawls onto Severus bed. He’s immediately enveloped in strong arms.

“Are you hurt?” Harry whispers, his eyes filling with tears already. 

“Yes,” Severus tells him honestly, “but I promise I will be alright.”

Severus takes a deep, shuddering breath, and Harry can feel him steeling himself. “What did I miss?”

Harry tells him of the graveyard, of _kill the spare_ , of Pettigrew, of pain, of fear. Of Cedric, and his parents, and hurt. Death Eaters but no Severus. He keeps his voice calm and steady somehow, scared someone will hear them and come looking if he doesn’t.

Severus tells him he’ll need to spend more time in Cokeworth now, Voldemort thinks he lives there still and will send people to check on him.

“Where have you been living when you were working at the library?” Harry asks. “I’ve been assuming you were Apparating in from Cokeworth every day.”

“I have a cottage in the South Downs,” he says, and Harry can hear him bite the inside of his cheek. He is really grateful Severus is letting him change the topic.

“Inside the national park?” Harry asks, a little embarrassed it never occurred to him to ask where Severus lived.

“It needed a lot of work, but it counts as a monument so no drastic changes are allowed. Being as run down as it was, it wasn’t very expensive. I’ve only been able to stay there for a couple of years now, it took about five summers to get it to that stage. It’s all infinitely easier with magic of course.”

Harry wants to ask if he can see it but he knows he will when he turns 18. “I’ll bet your garden is beautiful,” he says instead. _So relieved to see you, so glad you’re alright_ , he thinks.

Severus hums, “there used to be an orchard, not much remains but there are some apple trees that are positively ancient. The cottage was built in the early 19th century though apple trees older than 60 are rare indeed.”

Snuggling closer, Harry lets tears soak Severus’ hospital gown. Severus continues talking: “The hedge that separates the cottage from the road could be as old as the house, holly hedges tend to last, and there’s an oak in the back that’s so large it must be 100 years old at least.”

Harry sighs quietly while Severus talks about trees, flowers, building a greenhouse, then stiffens when noise drifts in through the open window. That must mean dinner is over. He jumps up, squeezes Severus’ arm briefly, then runs off to be in his own bed by the time Madame Pomfrey comes back. Wipes his cheeks just in time.

 

It takes Severus two days longer than Harry to be released from the hospital wing. The day before the leaving feast Harry falls asleep late, worried about nightmares, then wakes up screaming not an hour later. He stares at the insides of his curtains for a bit but the shadows start moving and he’s tired. He hides his broom so his dorm mates will think he went flying when they wake up, wraps himself up in his cloak, and steals down the stairs, through portraits and hidden passages. When he gets to the dungeons, he can breathe again. Taking care not to wake Severus, he opens the door slowly and quietly and slips inside. The fire is low but the shadows don’t seem threatening here. 

“Harry.” Severus’ voice is dark and warm and Harry takes a deep breath.

“Nightmare.”

“Me too.”

Harry comes closer, takes off his cloak, and joins Severus on the sofa, taking cold bony feet into his lap. He leans back and closes his eyes, listening to Severus’ breathing.

“Did you want to talk about it?” Severus offers, his voice heavy with something.

“Same as always, really,” Harry promises, “the graveyard, long dark corridors with doors that won’t open, Nagini.”

“Did you clear your mind?”

Harry nods miserably, he always clears his mind. “It stopped working since..."

Severus hums at him, it’s a calming sound, and Harry lets himself fall sideways, curling his feet up. His head ends up between Severus’ stomach and the back of the sofa, and a careful hand grabs his shoulder.

“What about yours?”

“I have recurrent dreams also, flashes of green light, Nagini, high-pitched laughter.”

“Are you ever responsible for anyone dying?” Harry whispers. The silence that follows takes so long that he wonders if Severus even heard him.

“Every time.” Comes back when he’s starting to regret asking, so he wraps his arm around Severus. Enjoys being warm and safe and held tight.

“Would you tell me something? Something nice?”

Severus talks of walking through the Forbidden Forest, being followed by unicorns, finding rare ingredients, getting a potion just right. His voice is fond and slow and rumbles through his chest where Harry can feel it. He has no more nightmares that night.

 

Harry arrives at the Dursleys and finds a garden in desperate need of attention. Petunia has followed some of his carefully worded instructions, but definitely not enough of them. The day after he arrives he wakes up at five and spends three hours weeding, seeding, cutting, and deadheading. Interestingly, there are pea plants growing by one of the walls. Harry isn’t completely sure, but they look like they might be the edible kind. Upon closer inspection, he finds tomatoes, as well as aubergine, cucumber, and carrots. He consults the table he copied out of one of the books he got at the library to be completely sure and isn’t surprised to find all these plants were planted sometime in spring and can be harvested in July or August. Using the table, he spots courgette, beetroot, turnip, and radish growing here and there.

From the Dursleys Harry gets no thanks and no breakfast, but he does get an envelope with money and a note with requests for the garden. He showers, then heads to the library.

“When did you do all that?” He asks Severus as they sit at their favourite table, tucked away into a corner of the library. 

“Easter,” Severus grins, “did the tomatoes and the cucumber survive alright? April is a bit early for them.”

Harry grins back, “they’re all doing very well. Thank you.”

“I don’t know if you’ll have time to cook, but this way you won’t have to risk them finding out about you taking food from the fridge. Tell me, which ones did you find?”

 

Every day Harry works in the garden, visits the library, enjoys all the things the twins send him. Every night Harry dreams of Cedric. Sometimes he kills him himself, sometimes he just watches him die over and over again. He wakes up screaming, gets taunted by Dudley, but never goes hungry. Afraid to sleep, he stares at the ceiling, desperately trying to think of pleasant things. Severus. Hot chocolate. Ron and Hermione. Steaming pies. Cooking in Severus’ tiny kitchen. _Maybe I could kiss Severus_ , he thinks. The thought is actually interesting, and it keeps him up until exhaustion finally takes over. It helps with the dreams to be tired enough.


	7. Year 5 - Wine and Coral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Every day Harry works in the garden, visits the library, enjoys all the things the twins send him. Every night Harry dreams of Cedric. Sometimes he kills him himself, sometimes he just watches him die over and over again. He wakes up screaming, gets taunted by Dudley, but never goes hungry. Afraid to sleep, he stares at the ceiling, desperately trying to think of pleasant things."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence starts in all seriousness here. Please let me know if something isn't clear or doesn't make sense!

Harry spends the morning of his birthday at the library with Severus. The other volunteers and the librarian have long since gotten used to their closeness, they all know Severus teaches at Harry’s school and tutors him over summer. No one says anything when they leave together for lunch but Maggie waves at them cheerfully. They walk across the street together to the park and Severus pulls a large basket out of his pocket while they hide behind some trees. Harry picks a spot in the grass, Severus whips out a blanket and sets an elaborate lunch. Sheepishly, Harry produces the Tupperware he stuffed that morning with the last of the spinach and some tomatoes that looked ripe.

“That will go well with the salad,” Severus says, smiling. Harry muses for a moment on how this might be the first time they’re spending any amount of time together outside in actual daylight. Then he smells freshly baked bread and all he can think about is food.

He doesn’t even think about how this is homemade food until Severus hands him a present, approximately the size of a thick book but lighter. He opens it carefully, feeling the heavy weight of Severus’ stare on him the whole time. It’s a wooden box with a silver closure, that opens to reveal five small vials. The vials are beautifully cut, more ornate than what Severus usually uses. 

“Will light or oxygen ruin it?” Harry asks, knowing what he must do now. The question puts a smile on Severus’ face.

“No, although I do not know how it will affect shelf life, as I haven’t had the opportunity to test for it.”

Harry opens one vial carefully, smelling it the way he was taught to.

Harry hums, returning the stopper, “lavender and camomile are strongest, though I also smell mint and wormwood.”

“What would that mean?” Severus looks proud.

“It smells like someone mixed a Dreamless Sleep with an Elixer to Induce Euphoria,” Harry muses, which makes Severus laugh.

“It is, in essence, although I made some adjustments to fine-tune it.”

“So,” Harry urges, prodding Severus with his foot, “what’s it do?”

“Happy dreams,” Severus smiles, “and it’s not addictive, though it is rather time-consuming to make.”

“Thank you,” Harry says, “I’ll be needing that, with current events.”

He holds the vial in his hand tightly, thinking _my work, my labour, my pride_ , then returns it to the box. “Is that what you’re calling it? Happy Dreams?”

“I’m not decided,” Severus says, looking at Harry as if he’s trying to figure out how much to say. “I’ll let you know if I decide to patent it, but I’m not sure it’s wise, for me personally or for our unicorn herds. Considering current events.”

“Unicorn horn to offset the Hellebore?”

“You’ll be getting an O for that summer homework, I see,” Severus laughs. “Unicorn horn so you can take it on an empty stomach, Harry,” he says finally. And isn’t that something.

“Dursleys are away until tomorrow. Walk me home?” Harry asks, not wanting to let go of the perfect birthday lunch, with a happy Severus, dressed in his tunic and leggings. It’s obvious in this light that the tunic is more a dark blue than black. The light makes the patterns stitched into the fabric in exactly the same colour shimmer as Severus moves. Although the neckline of the tunic is high, Harry can just see a hint of gold where the yarrow necklace lies.

“You’re staring at me,” Severus whispers, which breaks Harry free from the contemplation.

“You look nice,” Harry smiles at him. He knows Severus is well aware of the no lying thing but he still looks sceptical, raising an eyebrow at Harry.

“I mean it, these clothes suit you better than your teaching robes and what you wear underneath. You’ve got some colour on your face from gardening, and your hair looks healthier than it ever does when you spend half your day hanging over a boiling cauldron. It looks good.”

Severus hums thoughtfully and makes quite the face but doesn’t say anything as he gets up to pack away the picnic things. Harry starts walking in the direction of Privet Drive with him.

“You don’t seem eager to go back,” Severus remarks.

“I’m not, but the neighbours snitch on me when I’m home late.”

“In that case, should I Disillusion myself?”

“Oh yes,” Harry replies, grinning from ear to ear, “then we can finally talk about the garden in the garden!” Harry has been drawing plants for Severus every day in the library while they talk of what would help the flowers, what would improve the colour, what would salvage that one tomato plant.

“Won’t the neighbours think you odd for talking to yourself?”

“That’s hardly my problem,” Harry waves his hand, “they think I’m going to a school for incurably criminal boys so I think the damage was done a long time ago.”

“Yes,” Severus says softly, totally ruining the mood.

“I went to primary school here,” Harry points as they walk past. Severus ‘oh’ sounds like he’s lying, which amuses Harry greatly.

“How did you know that?”

“I might have checked up on you once or twice before you came to Hogwarts,” Severus admits, and Harry stops walking.

“Before the Disillusionment Charm,” he starts, looking Severus dead in the eye, “I want to tell you how grateful I am for that. I can’t imagine what it would be like to live with the Dursleys and have no one know or try to help me. I know professor Dumbledore says I have to live here but I’m not sure what I would do without you or the kindness you’ve shown me.”

Severus’ cheeks turn a charming pink, and he shakes his hair to hide it. Harry can see him touch his wand where it’s hidden in his sleeve and suddenly he blends in with the surroundings.

They spend the afternoon and evening chatting and gardening under a silencing spell.

“How come you can do magic here, when I got in trouble for Dobby doing magic two years ago?”

“I told both sides I’ll be spying on the Dursleys, which means that no matter who gets the notification of magic being done here, it’ll have to go through someone that will get rid of it.”

Harry nods, “good thing they both agreed then.”

“Harry,” Severus laughs, “both sides are terribly confused by Muggles and even the ones that don’t want them annihilated don’t want to spend time with them. They were all very grateful.”

Harry laughs with him, “do you think you could pass my wand doing household spells off as something necessary for spying?”

“I can try, but I suggest you don’t use your wand unless you’re in danger. No matter the reason, there will be a hearing if your wand is used and trust me when I tell you those are unpleasant.”

Severus cooks them a stew that he calls ‘ratatouille’, while Harry tidies, hangs the laundry, and sets the table. They sit down to eat with the last of the bread.

“How is there garlic and onion in this,” Harry asks suspiciously before even taking his first bite.

“I duplicated the ones I found in the cupboard, I doubt they’ll notice the difference in taste if I botched it.”

“Isn’t it supposed to be bad to duplicate, conjure, or transfigure food?”

“Not bad,” Severus grins evilly, “there’s just no nutritional value in duplicated onions. Though I rather think two out of three Dursleys could stand a bit of reduced nutritional value.”

Harry cackles, and Severus seems immeasurably pleased with himself. When Harry follows him into the garden after dishes and clean-up are done, he hugs Severus tight.

“Thank you, this was the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

Severus pushes the hair out of Harry’s eyes, smiles at him, then disappears with a pop. Harry thinks of the shy, happy smile all night, then dreams of it too.

 

Two days later, Harry and Dudley are attacked by Dementors. Harry has taken to carrying around a fake wand that the twins had given him. All it does is spit smoke and sparkles whenever Harry swoops it around, and it works better than a wand he’s not allowed to use. For Dursleys at least. For Dementors, it is useless.

His wand is in strapped around his leg and he can’t get to it, throws himself between the Dementor and Dudley cries EXPECTO PATRONUM with his hands stretched out in front of him. In his desperation his hands produce some white smoke. He tries to think of happy things. Severus, Severus, Severus. Instead there’s a green flash, a scream.

When he wakes up Mrs. Figg is sitting on the floor rocking Dudley who cries. Real, heart-breaking sobs. Harry blinks. Finds the pebble in his pocket. Scratches out to Severus where they are. The words disappear as Severus reads them, and he writes one more thing: Dementors.

Severus appears immediately, the loud _pop_ of a careless Apparition echoing. Dudley and Mrs. Figg sit up, startled, but Severus only has eyes for Harry. He’s with him in two steps and has Harry wrapped up in his cloak. He smells like himself and like fear. Harry thinks maybe he should be crying too, but he feels strangely empty. Lighter somehow. Like he was having a bad day but now the sun is shining.

“Hi,” he whispers, and he hears Severus breathing stop, then restart shakily. “Still me. My favourite dragon is the Norwegian Ridgeback. I like hot chocolate and treacle tart.”

“Arabella,” Severus says warmly, voice crackling, trembling fingers in Harry’s hair, _who is Arabella?_ “I’m so glad you’re here, I can’t imagine...”

“You don’t understand,” Mrs. Figg whispers, Arabella presumably, loud and clear in the empty street somehow. “It did happen, I may not be able to do magic but I can _see_ it, I can _see_ them.”

“You saw a Dementor eat Harry’s soul?”

The deep breath must mean that Mrs. Figg has nodded. Severus slowly opens his cloak. Harry looks at Mrs. Figg, who has a steadying hand on Dudley’s shoulder. Dudley’s face is mostly hidden behind a hideous handkerchief but what Harry can see is blotchy and red.

“Hi,” Harry says again, because it worked last time. “I’m alright. Could do with some chocolate.”

Mrs. Figg laughs nervously, “off to my house then, children.”

“Arabella...” Severus starts.

“You’ll explain it all before you do, Severus.” She says sternly. To Harry’s great surprise, Severus nods.

They’re all sitting on Mrs. Figg’s sofa, cats everywhere, holding mugs of tea and munching on a bar of chocolate each. Dudley’s fourth. It smells like cats but Harry likes the familiarity of it. It’s nice to be somewhere he’s welcome and knows his way around the kitchen. Severus has an expression on his face that Harry knows means he’s contemplating a Bubble Head Charm, and he stifles a giggle for it. They exchange a fond look.

“I’ll have to erase the boy’s memory of course, but if you think you can keep all this a secret, I see no need to do yours as well.”

“I’d prefer it if you did, or at least modify it. Albus comes here rather often and seeing how he hasn’t been summoned yet I’m assuming he’s not to know?”

“He’s not. Very well then.”

Harry explains how Dudley and he were ambushed by the Dementors, how his real wand was strapped to his leg and he couldn’t protect Dudley and get to it. Mrs. Figg explains how she knows Dementors feed off of emotions, that only sheer determination can let you ignore them.

“She came at that mist with a broom,” Dudley mumbles, so soft they can barely hear. It’s the first thing he’s said since Mrs. Figg had helped him off the floor, helped him to her house.

“Mrs. Figg,” Harry is outraged, “you are the single coolest person I’ve ever met, how did I not know this?”

She blushes happily, it takes years off of her face. “I’m a secret. The Order pays for the house, in return I keep an eye on things. Report back.”

“We don’t know how Harry managed to survive that,” Severus tells her, looking at her intently enough that Harry knows he’s testing her ability to shield her thoughts, “I promise you I’ll let you know. If you wish I could set the Memory Charm so that you’ll remember all once the Dark Lord or Albus dies.”

“Why Albus?” She wrinkles her nose in confusion and Harry finally knows where he got that.

“Your control of your mind is so strong I doubt that anyone but them or myself could find the information without your permission. If you should fall into the hands of the Dark Lord, we’ll have much bigger things to worry about.”

She shivers, “heavens forbid.”

They all quietly focus on their tea, until Dudley takes a deep breath. When everyone is looking at him, he whispers: “Could I be allowed to remember?”

“Entirely? Or once the war is over?” Severus asks him, not unkindly.

“Entirely, if you’d let me. You could magic me so I turn into a toad if I tell anyone or something.”

Harry snorts. “Would a magical contract work on him?”

Severus shakes his head, “it’d work on Arabella, since she can interact with magic.”

Harry nods, even if Petunia were a squib, the idea that she and Vernon somehow managed to produce something magical in any kind of way is laughable.

“Mr. Dursley,” Severus uses his teacher tone and Harry can’t help but respond to it, his back straightening. Mrs. Figg notices and smiles at him. Dudley squeaks out a very small “ _yes, Sir_.”

“You may tell your parents only that you were attacked by something magical and Mrs. Figg fended it off with her broom, even though she is no witch. Tell them Harry referred to the creatures as _Dementors_ and tell them whatever you wish to about how it made you feel. Do not mention me.”

Dudley nods, also sitting very straight. Clearly that school he goes to has strict teachers too.

“I assume your mother has made it sufficiently clear to you that you cannot talk to anyone outside of your immediate family about magic.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Run off home then,” Severus waves a tired hand in the direction of the door and Dudley gets up. “Tell them Harry went to make sure Mrs. Figg got home safely and will be along shortly. Tell me you understand that if I find out you said more than you were supposed to, I will come talk to you.”

“Yes, sir,” Dudley says again, then runs off faster than Harry has ever seen him move. The door falls closed behind him and Harry turns worried eyes to Severus.

“Is this where I get yelled at for not being able to get to my wand?”

Severus gapes at him in disbelief, “are you _daft_? Get over here!” He opens his arms wide and Harry leaps across the coffee table into his lap. He’s fairly certain that was flying. Severus lets out a big _oompf_ and Mrs. Figg makes a noise of surprise, but Harry can’t hear them. The full weight of what could have happened, what _should_ have happened, finally settles in. He still can’t cry but the cold fear, the sound of the woman screaming, the despair rolling over him, the feeling of being torn, it makes him shiver and whimper.

“When your parents died,” Severus whispers, so low Mrs. Figg takes the hint and starts clearing away cups and plates. “I was waiting outside. The moment I saw the house, the moment the Fidelius fell, I knew your mother had died. She was always fantastic at Charms, wouldn’t have let anyone set those wards for her. I ran in, was halfway up the stairs by the time the next green flash lit up the corridor. That second before I heard you cry is what plays over and over in my head when I see Dementors.”

“I see the green flash too, I hear my mum scream,” Harry mumbles against a bony shoulder. Tears are finally flowing into Severus’ robes. “I was expecting it to be Cedric now, but it’s still my mum.”

Severus hums, the rumble settles Harry and helps him breathe. “That the first time we met?” Harry asks wetly, and Severus shakes no.

“I held you in my lap, sitting on the floor, and held your mums hand, you fell asleep almost immediately, exhaustion and nerves probably. I stayed until I heard Black’s motorbike approach.”

“Then you Disillusioned yourself and hid in the corner until you were sure I was safe.”

A rumbling laugh, “you know me.”

 

Harry busies himself the next few days with making the garden ready for the next year as much as he can, leaving seeds and instructions behind for Petunia again. He makes a run to the library to return the books he still has, but Petunia has been keeping him on a short leash since the Dementors.

“Harry,” Severus tells him quietly when Harry wraps his arms tight around his waist. “Harry, I’ve bad news.”

“What is it?” Harry mumbles.

“Professor Dumbledore asked me to find out how much Pettigrew has told the Dark Lord.”

“Why is that bad news?”

“I can’t think of another way to find out than to volunteer Black’s Animagus form. Albus agrees.”

Harry nods. Even if Pettigrew hasn’t told Voldemort, he’ll know after Severus tells him. Sirius won’t be safe anymore, even as a dog.

“Can I become an Animagus?” Harry asks, at least that way he might be able to get off school grounds unseen.

“I’ve been thinking of becoming one myself, I’ll show you where I keep the books when we’re back at Hogwarts. Now run, Petunia will be upset if you’re away too long.”

 

Harry gets rescued from the Dursleys and finally gets to see Sirius again. Only Sirius and Hermione know about Severus and it’s hard to be mean to each other again, but they manage. When Sirius tries to call Severus names however, he gets fierce looks until they’re alone, then yelling until he’s clear on what he is and isn’t allowed to say. Lupin tries to figure out what they’re fighting about and Harry makes Sirius swear he won’t tell. Harry spends his days cleaning to forget about the Dementors and Cedric, wishing Severus was with him, then cleaning some more. Some parts of the house make his spine tingle and his stomach hurt, but no one seems to be able to tell him what might be causing it.

He misses gardening, wishes he didn’t have to clean. Misses sitting in the library with Severus arguing over the translation of some rune.

‘You’re here aren’t you?’ he writes one night. ‘I am, I’ll pretend to have something to look up in the library,’ Severus writes back, almost immediately.

“Thank you,” Harry whispers from the chair he’s curled up in when Severus comes in. It’s past his Mrs. Weasley approved bedtime which he finds funny and vaguely insulting at the same time.

“What’s wrong?” Severus sits down on the floor in front of him, arms wrapped around knees. Wards the room. Summons a book for show.

“Missed you,” Harry confesses, and Severus leans his head back, resting it on the chair. Harry reaches out carefully to touch it, to trail his fingers through Severus’ hair.

“Do you know how to braid hair?” Severus asks.

“No? Why do you ask?”

“Never mind,” Severus sighs, tilting his head so Harry can reach better. “I’ve been feeling... obstreperous.”

He chuckles at the noise Harry makes. “Rowdy, disruptive.”

“Like breaking things?” Harry asks, he knows that feeling well enough.

“I suppose so, yes, although not so much physically breaking things as well as stirring things up, causing problems.”

“Yeah,” Harry pulls on Severus’ ear just a little, “Sirius does have a talent for bringing that out in people, doesn’t he?”

“He does,” Severus complains, “makes me want to dye my hair pink or parade around in front of him in high heels and a bikini.”

Harry snorts, he’d never expected Severus to say that, especially in such a bored tone.

Severus turns around to look at him, black eyes in the dark. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Quite alright,” Harry promises, still playing with Severus’ hair, “I think you’d look dashing in high heels and a bikini, especially if you chose one to compliment your pink hair.”

Severus laughs, looks at Harry fond and happy, “you’re too young for this.”

“What? Banter?”

“Let’s call it that,” he looks mischievous and Harry loves him. Pushes his hair behind his shoulder.

“Too young to stay up after 10:30,” Harry whispers, “according to Mrs. Weasley. Old enough to know the only possible response to what you just said is doubling down.”

“How’d you double down?” Plotting with Severus is great fun, Harry decides. He pretends to think on it, looking from the low fire to the crowded shelves to the faded carpet Severus is sitting on.

“I would...” He stretches out deeper into the surprisingly comfortable chair. Legs dangling off of one armrest. “I would suggest that the next time Sirius calls you names I sit on your lap and we help each other apply lipstick.”

Severus hums. “Coral for me, wine red for you.”

“Obviously.”

Harry sleeps easy that night. No need for Happy Dreams or endless thoughts of flying, just pink lips, painted coral.

 

Being back at Hogwarts is strange, nobody seems to believe him about Voldemort, seeing Cho makes him itchy and Ron and Hermione are so busy being Prefects that Harry has to carve out time to see them. It takes just over a week of Umbridge before Hermione suggests Harry should teach Defence. Ron makes a joke about asking for Snape’s lesson plans and only looks at them a little strangely when Hermione and Harry laugh harder than they should.

 

“Harry,” Severus says one evening when he’s marking papers and Harry is doing his homework for Astronomy, “you got that O for your summer homework.”

Harry hums, “that I did.”

“And the three assignments before. I understand you were busy last year but I feel compelled to remind you of my promise.”

Harry looks up at him, “I didn’t forget, and it’s not that I was busy. I was saving them.”

“How many do you think you’ll need?”

“Four should do,” Harry tells him, “are you free tonight?”

Severus puts the stack of essays he was working on down on the floor and stands immediately. “What would you like to know?”

“What is your favourite room in Hogwarts?”

Severus nods, then starts pulling on his teaching robe. “I’m not sure what it’s called officially, but I’ve heard house-elves refer to it as the Come and Go room.”

“Where is it?” Harry asks, and Severus motions for him to follow. Harry wraps himself up in his invisibility cloak and follows Severus down the hall. They walk through the castle using only shortcuts that Harry knew about already. He’s not sure if that means that Severus remembers every single secret of Hogwarts he’s ever told Harry, or if Harry knows all of them by now. They turn left on the seventh floor and Severus points at a blank piece of wall opposite a hideous tapestry.

“Third question - how do we get in?”

Severus paces up and down in front of the wall until a door appears. He holds it open for Harry to slip through, then follows and closes the door behind them. It’s not a room, it’s an enormous cavern filled with things. Stacks and stacks of rubbish stretch as far as Harry can see. Books, and furniture, and things Harry couldn’t begin to name. His stomach hurts a little and his lower back tingles.

“Alright, definitely glad I waited for the fourth O now,” Harry laughs, “why is it your favourite room?”

“That sounds like a question to me, rather than a question about Hogwarts.”

“What aspect of this room makes it worthy of being your favourite?” Harry rephrases, rolling his eyes.

Severus drags him out again, closes the door, waits for it to disappear and marches up and down the corridor once more. A door appears again and when they step through, they’re in a cosy sitting room. There’s a fire crackling happily, comfortable armchairs, a side table with a number of crystal bottles and glasses, and some shelves filled with books. Harry’s stomach stopped hurting when they left the cavern and in this room he feels himself relax.

“Can alcohol without nutritional value still make you drunk?” Harry asks, eyeing the collection of amber liquids.

“My theory is that the room provides using what is hidden in the first version of it you saw, though I’m sure it’s capable of conjuring things that aren’t in there,” Severus says, sitting down on one of the armchairs. He looks completely at ease, for once.

“Is this safe to drink?”

“I asked the room for a place where we could be safe and comfortable,” Severus tells him. “So I should think so. Not that I’ll let you, mind.”

Harry laughs and leans back in his chair. “How does it work? You pace up and down thinking of what you want to see and it gives you that?”

Severus hums, “I find it easiest to keep a specific phrase in mind, like ‘I need to see the room where everything is hidden’.”

“Severus,” Harry says, looking around the room, “Hermione asked me to teach her and anyone else that might be interested Defence, because we won’t learn from Umbridge.”

“This would be the perfect room to use,” Severus agrees.

“What do you think I should teach?”

“Are you asking for my carefully prepared lesson plans, Mr. Potter?”

Harry giggles, Severus doesn’t usually feel comfortable enough to tease him and it’s a treat when he does.

“Perhaps I am, professor Snape, what would you say if I were?”

“I’ll give them to you,” Severus tells him, his tone serious again.

“No offence to your lesson plans,” Harry says, grabbing onto Severus’ lower arm. “But I think I’ll be focusing on defensive spells exclusively, you could just give me a list.”

“You don’t want to discuss dangerous beasts?” Severus asks innocently, which must be the room’s doing. Teasing _and_ poking fun at what Harry has taken to calling The Lupin Incident. Not the be mistaken for The Horrible Bullying That Almost Got Severus Killed, of course.

“Name five people that wouldn’t check me for Polyjuice if I started a Defence lesson with a discussion on Hinkypunks,” Harry challenges.

Severus huffs, then counts out on his fingers: “Dursley, Dursley, Dursley, Dumbledore, and myself. Probably Mr. Weasley though it seems to depend on his mood.”

“Alright you win,” Harry laughs, “you just named three people who don’t know of Polyjuice and wouldn’t care if they did, one person who didn’t realize a Polyjuiced person worked for him for a full year, despite knowing the person he was pretending to be for decades, and someone who knows where in the room I am when I’m silenced and covered in an invisibility cloak. Ron does seem to have a tendency to follow me into danger blindly.”

Severus laughs with him, then turns very serious. “This room is not without its dangers Harry, please don’t come here alone.”

Harry looks at him, waiting for the explanation, “if you ask for a room where no one can find you, then somehow injure yourself, no one will ever find you. Even house-elves need the door to come in here. If you’re with another person you can help each other.”

“Of course,” Harry says, “I promise I won’t come here alone, and I’ll tell the others the same.”

“Thank you. I know I cannot stop you if you truly want to do so, but if you decide to ask the room for an image of your parents’ house, please let me come.”

“You overestimate my Slytherin side, Severus,” Harry grins, “I don’t think that would have ever occurred to me.”

“Nevertheless,” Severus smiles back at him, “I’ve been at the house, together our memories should provide more details, and I wouldn’t like for you to experience something potentially stressful alone. You may of course choose a Weasley or miss Granger instead.”

“I’ll think on it,” Harry says, leaning back into the armchair. He tries to take in as many details of the room as he can, tries to pinpoint what about it makes Severus so happy and relaxed. There are large windows that let in loads of natural light, there is a gorgeous rug, there are many books. Those things he has in his quarters too though. The fire crackles, and Harry turns his head to look at it. Pine. The room smells like wood fire, like pine. There is a hint of lavender in the air, as well as smoky tea and treacle tart.

“I want to tell Ron,” Harry says finally.

“You may,” Severus says, after a moment of silence, “I believe you were planning on doing so last year.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, “but then we had the Triwizard thing happening. I’ll let you know when I do.”


	8. Year 5 - Defending Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I want to tell Ron,” Harry says finally.
> 
> “You may,” Severus says, after a moment of silence, “I believe you were planning on doing so last year.”
> 
> “Yeah,” Harry says, “but then we had the Triwizard thing happening. I’ll let you know when I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, please let me know if there's anything off or that you don't understand :)
> 
> EDIT: LuckyWaters pointed out a mistake I made! It's in the bit about Mr. Weasley's attack. Thank you again for pointing it out to me!

Harry takes Ron and Hermione to the Room, asking for a hall with pillows and targets and plenty of space. They throw a pile of pillows onto the floor and sit down in it. The three of them, conspiring together as they should be.

“What is this room?” Hermione asks, looking around. 

“It’s a room that provides what you want, as far as I understand it.”

“It’s perfect,” Ron says, leaning back.

“How did you find it?” Hermione asks, and Harry touches the necklace through his shirt, in full view of Ron for once. Hermione nods.

“Ron,” Harry starts, “I have to tell you something.”

Together, Hermione and Harry convince Ron they’re not pulling his leg. Harry is friends with Snape, but it’s a secret. Their fights are staged, their feud is fake. Hermione tells Ron about the code, and he promises not to say anything to anyone. Harry shows him the necklace and Ron laughs at the snake. Hermione looks at it too, she’s seen it before, but not for years. Something like surprise registers on her face and Harry thinks maybe she’ll figure out what Harry has known since the song.

 

“Can’t you do something about Draco?” Harry moans.

“Being a brat? I’m afraid I haven’t figured out how to yet.”

“Let’s practice, I’ll pretend I’m Draco and you can try out ways to tell me to shut up that won’t make me run to _Father_.”

“Oh what a grand idea,” Severus drawls, “then you can practice telling Miss Granger that her intellectual elitism is cruel.”

“Ouch,” Harry winces. “Unfortunately, you’re completely right and please help me with that. She was awful during the Hogwarts’ Defenders meeting at the Three Broomsticks, to Luna especially.”

“She’s a child,” Severus sighs, settling into his chair, “and so is Draco. I’ll make some subtle comments about what it means to be a leader rather than a lackey. You should ask Miss Granger how anyone is to figure anything out for themselves if she keeps throwing the answer in their faces, especially in class.”

“Class is for people that don’t understand it yet. Got it. What do I do about her being rude to Luna?”

“I’ve a book for you, let me find it.” Severus rummages around a little, finds a very thick book.

“Muggle?” Harry asks and Severus hums. “Let her have some time with it, then ask her what she thinks about how different people think in different ways. If you wish to be smug about it you can make it obvious that she worked it out herself because finding information that way helps you gain deeper understanding.”

“Gods you’re brilliant,” Harry grins, going through the book, touching the intricate drawings carefully.

“I do this to you all the time Harry,” Severus looks pretty self-satisfied himself.

“If it works,” Harry shrugs, and laughs. “Well done during class, by the way.”

“With what?”

Harry shrugs again, “Malfoy, you handled him well. Told me off in a way that let me know what you meant and sounded awful to everyone else.”

“I think we’ve both had quite a lot of practice at this by now.”

“Years,” Harry sighs, leaning back, “and years to go.”

“But more than halfway done,” Severus tells him gently. “You might even grow to miss yelling at me.”

Harry snorts, “I’ll find a way, don’t worry.”

 

The night after Umbridge disbands all student organizations, after Harry, Ron, and Hermione talk to Sirius through the common room fire, Harry sits in his armchair in Severus’ quarters.

“Severus,” he says, “I’m doing the reading for history, we’re on the Giant Wars, and it says here that Hengist was bonded with a human woman, and that her brother killed Hengist. Why’d he do that?”

“Bonding isn’t like marriage, there’s no divorce,” Severus explains. “It was a long time ago so we’ll never know the motivation but perhaps he really was trying to protect his sister. I doubt she would have survived childbirth if it had come to that.”

“Interesting,” Harry says, making a note on a piece of parchment. “Could it be that she was coerced into the bonding?”

“No,” Severus stares, intense eyes, lips tight, “it’s magic. It relies on the intentions of all parties and requires full and complete consent.”

“Alright. I’m rereading the book you got me for Christmas first year, the one of magical theory and spell creation.”

“Are you now?”

“You did promise you’d teach me if I took Arithmancy and Runes.”

“I did. Let me know when you finish rereading the book, and I’ll give you part two. If you decide to start experimenting, keep in mind that no spell should be cast before you have worked out a way to reverse it.”

Harry hums absentmindedly. He’s still taking notes on Hengist.

“Harry?”

“Yes,” Harry says, putting his quill down, looking at Severus, “no spells without reversal. Magic does as you ask, even if you didn’t intend to make someone’s lungs explode, a well-aimed Reducto will still do it.”

“Good. Don’t forget to practice your healing spells every chance you get. I suggest first years with scraped knees and Quidditch bruises.”

 

On Halloween, Harry and Severus go to the Room of Requirement together. Harry might not be Slytherin enough to come up with the idea, but he is Gryffindor enough to see it through. It feels very stupid or very appropriate to do it on this day, and they walk up and down the corridor together visualizing the house. A door appears on the previously blank wall, but it’s a different door than it normally is.

“That’s the front door,” Severus whispers.

Harry steps forward, opens the door, waits for Severus to get inside, then closes it behind them. They stand in the hallway, which solidifies something in his hazy memories. _Where James Fleamont Potter died._ Together they walk through the living room, to the kitchen. It’s nice. The house is cosy and comfortable. Messy like the people who live there love it. The colours are bright and cheerful, there are rugs and pillows and throws. They stare at the garden for a while, covered in flowers and children’s toys, then go upstairs. The master bedroom looks like whoever slept there just got up, which makes Harry’s eyes prickle.

“Lily thought making beds was a terrible waste of time,” Severus whispers. It feels appropriate to whisper.

Together they walk to the door that Harry’s bedroom is behind. A deep breath each, and they push the door open. It’s just as Harry remembers, except smaller. His toys, his curtains, his crib. The smell of laundry power, of pine, of warm summer evenings. Harry forgets to breathe and when he remembers he should, it feels like there couldn’t possibly be enough oxygen to supply to his whole body in this room inside a house inside a room inside a castle. He’s vaguely aware of Severus dragging him out out out into the seventh-floor corridor. Of being pushed down to the ground, knees pulled up, head between them. He focuses on Severus’ breathing and calms down. Severus pulls the box of chocolates out of Harry’s pocket and makes him eat one. Pumpkin-shaped pumpkin-filled.

“Glad you were with me,” he says, nibbling on the edge of his second chocolate.

“Glad you trusted me to be there with you,” Severus tells him. “I’ll break a rule for you today. You’re getting back your latest essay in class tomorrow.”

“An O?” Harry grins. Severus nods and smiles. Harry doesn’t have to think long.

“What’s the fastest way back to your quarters from here?”

Severus smile turns into a wholly evil grin. “Follow me,” he says, walking down the corridor, up a few steps, and straight out of a window. Harry gasps and runs to see where Severus fell to, but Severus is floating in front of the tower, looking comfortable as ever.

Harry summons his Firebolt, hears the tell-tale sound of glass breaking where it flies through a window, then leaps out as he catches his broom in mid-air. At neck breaking speed, he shoots towards the ground, pulling up just in time to land safely, promptly falling over as he does.

Severus laughs at him, flying down at a more sedate pace. He lands gracefully, smooths down his robes, and dispels the cushioning charm that made Harry topple over. He walks to the bottom of the tower, prods a stone with his wand, and steps back as a door appears. Harry walks through the door, then through another, and is surprised to find himself very close to Severus’ quarters.

“Never knew this painting was a passage,” he mutters, following Severus into his sitting room. Safe.

 

“Harry,” Severus says when Harry is huffing and stomping around the sitting room. “You should find a way to stay fit. Maybe keep training with the Quidditch team or take up running.”

“Why?!” Harry says, throwing his hands up. “At this rate I’ll graduate before I’ll be allowed to play Quidditch again! She banned me for life!”

“For your health,” Severus tells him, one eyebrow raised in what looks like it might be amusement, “and to have the stamina for duelling. Stairs.”

That makes so much sense that Harry immediately sinks down onto the sofa. He likes the comradery of Quidditch, loves flying, even enjoys the early morning drills. It also might help the rest of the team forgive him for getting banned if he shows he means to keep up his skill while waiting for the curse of Defence to take Umbridge.

“Can I come running with you sometimes even if I keep training with the Quidditch team?”

“If you can keep up with me you may follow me,” Severus laughs.

 

Late in November, Severus asks Harry if he has any plans for the weekend.

“No, not that I can think of, why?”

“Don’t want to make a promise I can’t keep, but if you could keep Saturday free then I’d appreciate it.”

Severus Apparates them to Edinburgh, to the movie theatre. It’s much busier than last time and Severus already has tickets. Harry was told to wear nice Muggle clothes, so he did. Severus is wearing a Muggle suit, but no tie. He looks good, has his hair pinned up.

“What are we going to be watching?” Harry whispers as they stand in line for popcorn and drinks.

“A movie about spies,” Severus grins.

“Glad you have a sense of humour about all this,” Harry rolls his eyes, but he can’t help laughing.

In the dark he smells Severus’ aftershave, grabs his hand and leans his head on Severus’ shoulder. To be close like this, in public. Completely ordinary to anyone who’d see them.

The movie is very cool and Harry bothers Ron and Hermione with it endlessly. He only stops when Ron starts teasing him about having a crush on ‘the murderous one’. Hermione shoots him a knowing look and Harry has a flash of insight that they both understand Bond’s appeal could just never be surpassed by a girl, cool and murderous or not. And she hasn’t even seen the film yet.

 

When Cho kisses Harry after the last meeting of Hogwarts’ Defenders of the term, he steps back in confusion.

“I’m sorry,” Cho cries.

“Don’t be,” Harry soothes her, grabbing her hand to squeeze it once, “you’re grieving and you did me no harm. Let’s be friends instead though.”

Cho nods gratefully, and he never mentions it again. Harry doesn’t tell Severus.

 

Being at Grimmauld place is horrible. The Weasleys don’t blame him for the attack on Mr. Weasley, but Harry feels guilty regardless. He can’t get a moment alone with Severus, and he has to repeat his threats to Sirius about calling Severus names twice. He ends up actually telling Mrs. Weasley that he thinks Sirius might have flees when Sirius calls Severus _Snivellus_. During a meeting. The house still makes his stomach hurt.

The only way he can talk to Severus is through the pebbles, and they do almost every night. Severus tells Harry to do his homework, Harry tells Severus to spy safely.  ‘If I tell them I’ll need to look something up tomorrow will you join me in the library?’ Severus writes him one night.

‘God yes.’

They sit together on the sofa, mugs of hot chocolate that Harry made in the kitchen while Kreacher glowered at him clutched in their hands.

“It wasn’t you, you know,” Severus tells him out of nowhere.

“But it was. I know it wasn’t my fault, but I saw it and I didn't stop it.”

“Like you were paralyzed?”

“Yeah,” Harry sighs. “Well. Like watching a movie. You can’t change what the characters are doing, all you can do is stay and watch, or look away. You could shout at the screen but it won't make the characters hear you.” He shuffles a little closer. “I’m really sorry about the other day.”

“I’ve been called worse than a nickname made up by an eleven-year-old.”

“Wish he’d respect you for the things he’s seen you do,” Harry leans his head down.

“Did you end up telling Mrs. Weasley he has flees?”

Harry snorts, “oh I did, I keep my promises.”

Severus cackles, throws his head back. “Thank you,” it comes all the way from his toes.

Harry sits up a little, grinning wide, “she made him take a bath with some soap that she bought. He smelled like Doxycide.”

He’s never heard Severus laugh like that, delighted and happy and grateful. “You marvel,” he sighs, when he’s finally caught his breath.

“Yeah well,” Harry smiles back, “didn’t want you to have to do anything drastic.”

“Drastic?”

“Like dying your hair pink, wearing high heels and a bikini,” Severus grins at him and Harry continues. “Painting your nails a sparkly purple.”

“I have been considering a ball gown recently,” Severus says, as if they’re conspiring against Sirius together.

“You know, I think Sirius has a bit of a thing for Remus.”

Severus shudders, “why would I care?”

“Because if he’s at all looked around, dresses and heels and pink won’t bother him much.”

They look at each other, eyes gleaming. “Chains and whips might,” Severus lifts an eyebrow.

“Have some insane torture device shipped here, insult him twice by referring to his house arrest as the reason why you didn’t want to have it delivered at Spinner’s End.”

Severus coughs as he tries to maintain a straight face.

Harry looks at him. “Banter?”

“Let’s call it that.” Severus swallows, then straightens up, “I’ve been irritating him by referring to the Dark Lord as such I think, I could always start wearing my robes here.”

“Would he recognize them? They’re not so obvious without the mask.”

Severus looks sad, just for a second, “I hate that you know this.”

“What about classical conditioning?"

“What do you know of classical conditioning?”

“Excuse me,” Harry pretends to be offended which makes Severus smile. “You’re the one that told me to work on my biology.”

“You’re right,” Severus' smile widens and Harry sinks back into him.

“I doubt you’d be able to convince Kreacher to help you, but maybe you could zap him somehow every time he’s being awful?”

“I could refer to his house arrest whenever he calls me names, but that would just be incendiary.”

“He’s promised me he won’t say anything about us to anyone. Maybe just use that. Say something about Diagon Alley, walking around the Forbidden Forest, watching me in the Tournament.”

“Clever child,” Severus sighs approvingly.

“Two birds with one stone, that one.”

“How so?”

“It’d remind him of the things you do for me, might make him feel guilty.” Harry fidgets a little. Whispers the rests. “I’d really like for you to get along even a little bit.”

“I’ll tone it down on the actually offensive things, stick to dog references and reminding him of us being friends.”

Harry stands up and stretches. “There you go, a way to bother him while reminding him that you deserve his respect.”

Severus touches his hand gently, just for a second, but it’s so rare for him to initiate contact that Harry recognizes it for what it is. He folds himself into Severus’ lap and hugs him tight, sighs as strong arms wrap around him. They stay like that until it’s really time to say goodnight.

 

For Christmas, Harry gets Severus’ copies of ‘Magical Theory and Spell Creation’, both the intermediate and the advanced level. The notes are extremely helpful, and Harry is grateful for something to read while stuck at Grimmauld place. Hermione got him a book on Astronomy, that she promises explains things differently than the one they use for class. Maybe it’ll stick better like this. Ron and he got each other the same present, a leather hip flask with an Aguamenti charm built in, for when they are playing Quidditch. He’s very glad he paid the extra knuts to get RBW burned into the leather, he’d done it so Ron’s brothers wouldn’t steal it, but it will also work for not confusing their flasks. 

The next time they pass each other in the hallway, Severus has his hair pinned up with the silver comb. He touches his hand to where Harry knows the yarrow necklace lies just below Severus’ collarbones. Harry knows that means _thank you_ and _I really appreciate it_. His present for Severus was a notebook that appears blank unless you know the password. It wasn’t cheap but spies can’t have fifteen-year-old friends and Harry really wanted to write down the things Severus and he had cooked together. The first few pages of the notebook are devoted to mushroom stew, chicken curry, grilled okra, brownies, and ratatouille. Every recipe is followed by a little note on when they cooked it together, what changes they’d made to the recipe, what improvements they had suggested while eating. He’s added drawings of the dish, of the ingredients, the occasion they’d cooked it for. All of the drawings move. _To Severus_ , Harry had written on the inside of the cover, _hope we run out of space in this book one day_.

 

Harry is cranky the whole day on the 26th. He wants to continue the tradition of cooking with Severus the day after Boxing Day. He likes that tradition. Instead, he spends the evening exchanging suggestions with Severus. They go from plausible to ridiculous very fast, and Harry falls asleep with a smile on his face when Severus admits he can’t come up with anything more bizarre than a _croquembouche_. Harry wakes up the next day still clutching the book called _Le Cuisinier Impérial_ that he found in the Black’s library. He doesn’t understand a word of it, but the pictures were helpful.

 

A few days before they go back to Hogwarts, Harry overhears Lupin and Sirius shouting at each other in the hallway. He stays in his room for a bit but eventually gets bored and steps out. Sirius and Lupin are both bright red and panting.

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” Lupin says. “I had no idea you were here.”

“We’ve got to tell him, Remus,” Sirius says and Lupin just sighs, deep and heavy.

“Library?” He says, and Sirius nods. Harry follows them both after a little head-jerk from Lupin indicates that he should. They all sit down in armchairs near the fire and Sirius wards the room.

“Do you remember Phoebe?”

Harry thinks. _Phoebe_. “The Muggle woman you lived with during the Triwizard Tournament?”

Remus laughs, hard and ugly. “That’s what you went with?”

“Phoebe was my girlfriend, it’s her house, I was just staying over.” Sirius rubs his face. “She’s contacted me to tell me she’s having a baby.”

“You’re going to be a dad?” Harry can’t believe it. Sirius is hardly dad-material. “Are you going to get married?” 

Remus laughs again, still not happy at all.

“Harry,” Sirius looks at him like he’s struggling to talk, “she got pregnant right after the tournament. We broke up soon after and I moved back to London, which is when Remus moved in here too. Then we started dating.”

Harry swallows. Sirius and Remus. It makes sense of course but he hadn’t really expected it to happen like this. “So, what of the baby?”

“That’s what we’re arguing about,” Remus explains, gentle when he’s talking to Harry. “Neither of us think right now is a good time to have a baby much as we’d otherwise love to have her, but Phoebe doesn’t want to raise her at all. Sirius doesn’t want her to grow up without her parents.”

“Well,” Harry frowns, “you’ll have to withdraw from the Order then.”

“Pardon?” Sirius looks like he was slapped. Remus’ mouth has fallen open.

“Her.” Harry looks at them, “this baby is a person by now. Phoebe is what, seven months along? It’s decision time. It’d be awful for the Order if you two leave, but that’s hardly her fault. Maybe you can go abroad somewhere to stay out of the mess. It’d be nice if we could still use Grimmauld Place. You have to stop putting people you love in danger because you can’t stand to be excluded from the action, Sirius.”

“Harry,” Sirius blinks at him, “when did you get so wise?”

“You know the answer to that, Sirius, and you’re rude to him all the time.”

“Excuse me?” Remus seems to have found his tongue again. Harry tilts his head, remembers the wards Sirius placed.

“Severus Snape is my best friend. We pretend to be enemies for politics.” He turns back to Sirius before Remus can respond. “Sirius, please tell him, and remember it’s a secret to anyone but your boyfriend. Or partner or whatever. I’ll be godfather to your daughter if you’ll have me but I won’t be it alone.”

He nods at both of them and leaves the library, diving straight into his own room to start scribbling at his pebble furiously.

 

“What did you set for a password? For the notebook?” Harry whispers from underneath his cloak as he stands next to Severus in the hallway. Severus casts a silencing spell, only touching his wand briefly to do so.

“Kindness,” he says, his lips barely moving. Harry squeezes Severus hand briefly, then slips his birthday present into one of the pockets of Severus’ robes. 

“Happy birthday,” he says, right before he has to rush upstairs as Severus is pulled into another Order meeting.

 

When his stone vibrates with ‘thank you’ it’s very late, but Harry waited up for it. ‘You’re very welcome’, he writes back. Harry bought the book on tree care in Diagon Alley before his third year but hadn’t realized how much information it had on caring for fruit trees and orchard maintenance until he was looking for a present in the the drawers of his trunk. He’d bought the book originally because he loved the drawings and carefully penned schematics laid out in it. He’s also given Severus a small bag of apple seeds. They’re supposed to be a rare but very old English variety that makes the very best apple pie. Harry had read about them in one of Euphemia’s cookbooks, then asked Neville where he could get seeds. Neville had provided him with carefully written instructions on soil, pollination, and pest control, so Harry had tossed those in with the present too.

 

Two days later, Severus tells Harry that he’s to be taking Occlumency lessons, twice a week. Harry tries to look properly incensed but hasn’t failed so badly since first year. 

“What will we tell people?” Harry asks.

“Remedial Defence, Professor Umbridge has expressed her concern for your attitude,” Severus says, clearly trying to suppress a smile. “And since I’m the only one who is qualified to teach Defence besides her, it seems the task once again falls to me to get you out of trouble.”

“Oh no,” Harry drawls.

“Arrogant boy,” Severus says and Harry hopes that he’s the only one that thinks it sounds fond.

 

Harry’s first Occlumency lesson is neglected in favour of catching up on their Christmas tradition. They roast a chicken in Severus’ kitchen, and Harry gets a lesson on avian anatomy in the process. They laugh and laugh and laugh, until their stomach are hurting, chatting over delicious food, wine for Severus.

 _This_ , Harry thinks. _Just this_.

 

Occlumency is hard, and Harry can never keep Severus out all the way. Harry manages to focus on flying so strongly that it blocks out every other thought approximately two out of three times but Severus gets through plenty.

“How did I not notice?” Severus gasps, after finding out about Umbridge’s detentions.

“I didn’t want you to know,” Harry flinches. “I knew it’d hurt you.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Severus says, standing up straighter. “But I have an excuse for knowing now and I will take it to Dumbledore. I’ll tell Minerva too.”

“Could you,” Harry starts, chewing his lip, “could you tell him you suspect the Dursleys aren’t treating me well?”

Severus looks at him with warm, sad eyes. Harry chews his lip some more. “I know he probably won’t do anything, but I’d like to be certain that he knows what is happening and chose not to do anything about it.”

“Alright,” Severus tells him, “hold up your wand. Again.” 

Harry holds up his wand and takes position but Severus slumps down instead of attacking.

“I hate that I can’t fight for you openly,” he says, looking at Harry. Harry nods.

“Teach me to defend myself instead, Severus.”

 

By the end of January, Harry is dreaming of the corridor and doors almost every night. When he takes Happy Dreams he’s fine, but he’s getting worried. Stretched out on the carpet in front of Severus’ fire one night, Harry stumbles upon something in his book.

“Severus,” he says, to draw attention, “I’m reading that mind magic book you found me, and it says here that defending your mind is far easier when you don’t trust someone because you’ll be naturally inclined to hide your vulnerabilities.”

Severus nods, “I believe that is why professor Dumbledore asked me to teach you Occlumency.”

“He thinks we’re enemies,” Harry muses. “D’you think Umbridge knows Legilimency?”

Severus looks appalled but joins in easily when Harry laughs. It’s the good kind of laugh, where Severus doesn’t hide his face. His eyes sparkle, his long legs support him as he leans forward in his armchair. Harry has to tear his eyes away and focus on the book again. He stares at the page but all he sees is black hair framing pale face, long fingers clutching slim thighs.

 

Cho begs Harry to go on a date with her on Valentine’s. “Please, as friends,” she says, “people keep asking me and I know you’re being harassed too, I don’t want to tell anyone that I miss Cedric too much.”

 

Harry lies on the floor of Severus’ office, panting, the Monday after Valentine’s. Severus has somehow pushed into memories of Harry holding Cho’s hand, being kissed under the mistletoe. The whole office is vibrating, until Severus spins around and legs it to the sitting room.

“Severus,” Harry says after what felt like hours of quiet seething coming off of Severus in waves. He’s sitting on the floor in front of Severus’ chair with a mug of hot chocolate. “You didn’t finish the memory, please look to the end.”

Severus shakes his head, “you deserve privacy, I wish I didn’t have to do this at all, but I won’t look further than I have to.”

“Severus,” Harry insists, pushing the memory of telling Cho _better stay friends_ , of holding her hand while she told him about Cedric, all the way to the front of his mind.  Severus looks at him, then shakes his head again. Harry pushes the memories further out, as if he’s trying to shove them into Severus brain, and he feels the tickle of it when Severus takes them. He watches the jealousy seep out of Severus’ stiff back, his hunched shoulders, and he climbs into his own chair.

“That was exceptional,” Severus says after a moment. “The control of your mind you must have to do something like that, I mean.”

Harry thinks for a moment. “I’ve been practicing clearing my mind every night for years, I know Dumbledore can’t get in because I’ve felt him try. Maybe it’s harder with you because of the no lying thing.”

Severus nods, “then why are the dreams not stopping?”

“Sometimes,” Harry whispers, “I think maybe I don’t want them to.”

“How come?” Severus asks, his tone gentle, dark eyes serious.

“I don’t like not knowing what’s happening,” Harry confesses. “Dumbledore never tells me anything, and you’re not trusted by either side. I know you’d tell me.”

Severus nods. “Perhaps we should move on to Legilimency, if you learn to do it on purpose, it might help you not do it by accident anymore.”

“You think that’s what’s happening?”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense to me Harry, but that doesn’t make it true.”


	9. Year 5 - Edith Aurora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Perhaps we should move on to Legilimency, if you learn to do it on purpose, it might help you not do it by accident anymore.”
> 
> “You think that’s what’s happening?”
> 
> “It’s the only thing that makes sense to me Harry, but that doesn’t make it true.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The things long train rides are good for!

Cho tries kissing him again and Harry tells her as gently as he can not to mistake compassion and respect for more. It’s a little awkward but they find their way back to friendship soon after.

He tells Severus this time, then distracts him by asking questions about his parents.

“Your mum was exceptional at Charms, and very good at Potions. Your father preferred Transfiguration.”

“What was her Patronus?”

Severus laughs, “the most ridiculous bear. A grizzly maybe. Insanely large, fiercely protective, dwarfed her when she first produced it at sixteen.”

“Was my dad’s a stag?”

“No.” Severus wrinkles his nose in distaste, “a sodding lion.”

Harry cackles, “stereotypical much.”

“It fits. Proud, arrogant, royal.”

Harry nods, “noisy.”

“Your mum was a doe Animagus,” Severus whispers. “She finally managed in seventh year and got registered the same day, said it was an act of defiance to be _excellent_ with her background to anyone who’d listen. To think I thought her the only person to ever become an Animagus before completing their Hogwarts education.”

 

On March 2nd a very stressed looking owl delivers notes to Dumbledore, professor McGonagall, and Harry during dinner. Harry opens it carefully, reads it under the table, can’t hide his grin at all. Edith Aurora Black. It’s a scribbled note signed by RJLB which makes Harry grin even wider. Hermione and Ron demand to see it, so he passes the note. Severus looks composed, McGonagall is dabbing at her eyes discretely, Dumbledore looks to be carefully hiding any reaction. McGonagall steps close behind him when he leaves the Great Hall.

“A word, perhaps, Mr. Potter?”

He follows her to her office, which she wards carefully. Then she breaks into the widest grin he’s ever seen on her face.

“I’m a godfather,” Harry laughs.

“I’m a godmother!” She passes him a glass, pours him a very small amount of something that looks expensive and smells alcoholic enough to strip paint, pours herself a large amount of the same stuff, and taps their glasses together.

“Slainté!” She cheers, and Harry tries to copy her but fails and they both laugh.

“Could you take me to meet her?” He asks professor McGonagall when he’s had his sip of alcohol and has pretended not to be coughing for a bit.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she smiles at him.

 

Severus insists on teaching Harry how to write nice cursive and together they decorate a cardboard note with Edith’s name and painted wild flowers. Lucerne, Baby’s Breath, Grey Willow. Red poppies.

‘Can’t wait to meet you, be nice to your dads,’ Harry writes on the back. ‘Love, Harry.’

 

Legilimency lessons are harder than Occlumency lessons ever were. He made his way into Severus’ mind accidentally a few times, before, but now he’s supposed to do it on purpose. He sticks to looking for memories of innocent things like taking care of the snakes, carefully avoiding the minefield of anything to do with things they’re deliberately not talking about. He doesn’t want to know what he’ll be getting to represent his family, doesn’t want to know what the cottage looks like, doesn’t want to know about the effort Severus has gone through to give him everything he’s been given so far. He wants Severus to decide when to share all.

He tries to go for memories from before Harry was even born and gets more flashes than he ever wanted of Severus being yelled at in Chinese, healing his mother’s bruises with shaking hands and a paste the sickening green colour of dittany, being taunted for saggy clothes, greasy hair, ugly face. He returns to the snakes.

“You’re getting better, both at getting in when you want to and staying out when you don’t,” Severus tells him, lying stretched out on the sofa while Harry fusses over him with hot chocolate. “And I am glad you’ve stopped accidentally reading your classmates’ minds. But you need to dig deeper, find things I don’t want you to see, you cannot master Legilimency if you keep going for snakes.”

“You confuse cage and house a lot,” Harry says miserably. “ _Cage_ and _house_ , he enunciates. Only the tone of the second part is different, so I know it’s confusing, but one is the sound for closed with the sound for box, and the other is the sound for safe with the sound for box.”

“ _Cage_ ,” Severus repeats. “ _House. Safe. Box. Closed._ ”

“Much better,” Harry praises.

 

Professor McGonagall takes Harry to meet Edith when she’s a week old. She’s all scrunchy and pink and Sirius and Remus can’t stop smiling. Remus thanks Harry over and over again for the silver rattle that’s been in the Potter family for generations.

“I take it you worked things out then?” Professor McGonagall asks while Harry lies back in a rocking chair with the sleeping baby on his chest. She’s so beautiful, her tiny fist closed around one of his fingers, fluffy black hair. She smells like milk.

“Yeah,” Remus says, “we’re staying here until she’s old enough to travel, then we’re going to Germany. We’ve found a farm near a small village that should allow us the space we need and some company too. It’ll be under Fidelius and Unplottable of course.”

“I looked up what spells my dad used on Grimmauld Place,” Sirius tells them, “we’ll be using all of them. Phoebe knows and is alright with it.”

“That’s all very good to know,” professor McGonagall laughs, “but I meant between the two of you.”

“Oh!” Remus blushes deep, stares at his hands.

“We did,” Sirius smiles, he looks younger and happier than Harry has ever seen him. He holds up his left hand where a simple gold band stands out against his skin. “Once Remus got over his whole ‘I’m a monster I can’t be around children’ thing, it was all rather easy. We got married for the adoption.”

“How did you not get arrested?” Harry asks, careful not to disturb the baby.

“Dumbledore performed it, at Hogwarts,” Sirius smiles, “sorry we had to keep it all hush-hush.”

“Oh, we understand, dear,” Professor McGonagall tells him. “Your first priority should be each other and the babe.”

Remus glares at Sirius, plays with the matching band on his ring finger. “Professor Snape is going to be sending me Wolfsbane by Muggle mail and Sirius is so awful at changing diapers that if I hadn’t been convinced before, I am now.”

They can’t stay long, but it’s hard to say goodbye. It won’t be easy to contact Sirius while he’s in Germany and they might not see each other for a long time. Edith fusses and cries, and professor McGonagall steers him away.

“It’ll work out,” she promises. “They’ll be safe.”

 

“Severus,” Harry asks after another horrible Legilimency lesson. They’re lying on the floor in his office. “Why can you keep me out?”

Severus hums a little before answering. “I’ve a lot of experience keeping out someone I like and someone I’m not supposed to be able to keep out.”

“Dumbledore. And Voldemort. His Protean charm makes you unable to keep him out?”

“It’s more complicated than that.” Severus sits up and smooths his hair back down from where magic and the floor made it fluffy. It doesn’t make it look any better and Harry fights the urge to touch it. “The spell required consent on my part to take hold in the first place. You cannot take the Mark if you do not want to. I have changed my mind of course, but the fact that I consented to such an invasion on my person in the first place makes it harder to resist the Dark Lord.”

“Does that mean you have to be of age?”

Severus nods. “That does not mean he would hesitate to do it on the day of someone’s seventeenth birthday.”

“At least it means most of the more vocal Slytherins have some time yet.”

“Malfoy,” Severus sounds amazed. “You sweet child, always thinking of others.”

“Speaking of Malfoy,” Harry blushes deep. “You said they’d never been your friends. How do you define friends?”

Severus thinks on that for a long time. Long enough for them both to get up and get settled in the sitting room. “I suppose for someone to be a friend, there needs to be some level of mutual affection. A concern and some effort to maintain each other’s wellbeing.”

“So someone can be your friend if you merely like them? You do not need to love them?”

Severus looks at him as if trying to read his mind, but there is no brush of Legilimency. “I think you should love your closest friends, but it is not necessary to love all your friends.”

“I don’t love all my friends equally,” Harry confesses.

“Me neither,” Severus grins and looks at Harry from under fanning black eyelashes.

 

Harry and Hermione spend a lot of time in the library revising. Ron spends a lot of time in the library complaining about revision and reading about chess. He’s found a painting that likes to play chess somewhere on the second floor, and he’s desperate not to lose their seventh match.

Hermione groans into her books a lot, but when she makes a noise so loud that Madame Pince looks like she would disembowel her if it wouldn’t mean staining the books, Harry feels compelled to ask what’s wrong.

“I’m revising for history, and I’m at the Giant wars, and wizards hate logic,” Hermione explains.

“Two of those things are good, I’m on the second Goblin Revolution still.”

“Yeah but remember Hengist?”

“The one who was killed by his brother in law?”

“That one. I’ve been researching bonding to better understand the motivations of Gifford Ollerton.”

“Of course you have,” Ron chuckles.

“And it says here,” Hermione says insistently, shooting Ron a mean glare, “that when you make a soul bond, it carries on to your next life.  Then it goes on to say that sometimes a couple is born already connected by an almost complete bond, as if that proves anything.”

“What are we angry about?” Harry asks mildly.

“This is negative evidence,” Hermione says, prodding the book. “It is impossible to test this theory, yet it is accepted as the truth by every source I’ve found! No one has any idea if reincarnation actually exists or any suggestions as to how it would work!”

“Do you prefer the alternative?” Harry asks, he’d like Severus to be here for this discussion. Severus thrives when he gets to explain theories.

“What’s the alternative?” Ron seems happy they’re not discussing actual schoolwork.

“Soulmates,” Hermione sighs. “You can test if people are bonded to each other, so if two people that have never purposefully gone through a bonding ceremony do show up as bonded when you test for it...”

Harry finishes for her, “then either they were always meant to be bonded, their souls destined to be together, or they have a bond that carries on to a next life.”

“There are no known instances of people being born with other bonds, like life bonds, or heart bonds. Only soul bonds.”

“Which is rather awful,” Ron says, looking curiously focused, “because soul bonds don’t allow you to be with anyone else ever again. My parents have one. If in their next life one of them dies without them bonding, or even meeting, the other will be kind of doomed.”

“But they will have done it to themselves,” Hermione says, “and since these bonds allow you to find and recognize the other person, you greatly improve your reincarnation’s chance of happiness. _If_ that’s how it works. The worst part is that no one writes about how a bond is supposed to know someone is going to be born, like they're not even interested in finding out!”

 

Dumbledore is sacked, Umbridge is headmistress even if Hogwarts herself disagrees, O.W.L.s are coming, and everything is awful. Everything except warm fires, treacle tart, snakes, plants, and friends. And flying.

“Why don’t you like my dad?” Harry asks one night before a Legilimency lesson, desperate not to think about anything on The List of Awful for just a minute.

“Come find out. I promise that if you manage we’ll be done, I’ll have taught you all I can about getting into someone’s mind.”

“Will you make it hard?” Awful is back, but at least this might be over soon.

“It already is, I don’t want you to see me like that, and I don’t want you to lose any of the faith you have in your parents.”

“Alright,” Harry nods, and in he goes. He’s long since stopped needing a wand or words to do Legilimency, it comes as natural as breathing to dive into Severus’ thoughts. He clutches onto an image of his father, brown eyes, tan skin, arrogant smile. He follows the image, finds brown eyes in a panic outside on the lawn on a moonlit night. He gets a flash of brown eyes in a small face, younger than Harry has ever seen his dad before, calling Severus by that dreaded awful Snivellus. Then he sees Severus sitting by the lake, hanging upside down, calling Lily a _Mudblood_.

He blinks Severus’ sitting room back into existence, crawls over to the corner of the room Severus has scrabbled into and joins him there. They sit quietly together for long minutes, then Harry takes Severus’ hands and heals the half-moon shaped marks in his palms. Harry whispers to a shell-shocked Severus until they’re both cold and stiff from sitting on the floor. He finally manages to coax Severus back onto the sofa and under a throw after so long that it’s almost curfew.

 

The career advice meeting with Professor McGonagall goes about as well as can be expected. Harry can hardly tell her in front of Umbridge that he likes nothing as much as he likes Hogwarts’ Defenders. He tells her instead he’d like to be an Auror and professor McGonagall and Umbridge end up shouting at each other.

 

Fred and George create a huge swamp in the Charms hallway while Harry breaks into Umbridge’s office to talk to Sirius and Remus about how they’re settling in, but mostly about his dad. They tell him Edith is well and the house is lovely and please don’t get caught. Sirius and Remus seem appropriately embarrassed about how they behaved in school which Harry thinks will have to do for now. If it weren’t for the baby he’d yell at them more.

 

At night, Harry and Severus face each other on the carpet in his sitting room.

“I cannot believe you’d be so reckless as to break in to the office of our Headmistress!” Severus shouts.

“I had to talk to them!” Harry shouts back, “and it went well!”

“The twins won’t get their N.E.W.T.s now! Do you understand that they are so loyal to you that they’d throw away their education because you asked? Weeks! Before graduating! Do you understand the power you hold over them? Do you not remember that you might ask them for thousands of Gallons back and they’d have no way to refuse and no way to comply?”

Harry deflates all the way. “I’d never.”

“Just because you know you wouldn’t doesn’t mean other people do too.” Severus says, sounding sad and tired.

“I normally get the benefit of the doubt,” Harry sighs, sitting down in his chair. Severus sits down opposite him. “From my friends at least.”

“I know,” Severus nods. “You’re handsome and charming and loyal, why wouldn’t you?”

“I won’t forget again,” Harry promises, meeting the fiery dark eyes that are staring at him.

“Write to them, tell them they’ve been signed up for their exams since the start of their seventh year. No one can stop them from self-study and showing up regardless of where they spend the coming few weeks. They only have three anyways.”

“I’ll talk to professor McGonagall tomorrow so I have an excuse for knowing.”

“What’d they say?” Severus asks, after a pause, when they’ve both calmed down. Like Harry is going to tell him about the weak excuses Remus and Sirius came with.

“Come find out,” Harry challenges him, meeting his eyes. Severus casts a silent Legilimens and Harry shows him Sirius and Remus making farting noises at each other, hexing each other and running around practicing their backflips while falling hilariously.

Severus is wheezing when he comes out. “I know I told you to practice with invented memories,” he laughs. “But I was not ready for that.”

Harry laughs too, “how was it?”

“Besides too ridiculous to be believed? Very good, who did you see failing at backflips so much that you can just summon that image?”

“Please,” Harry raises an eyebrow at Severus and gets a proper belly laugh in return. “I spend my summers at the Burrow.”

 

Harry stumbles out of his Ancient Runes O.W.L. knowing he did well, and knowing he’ll need several days of sleep at least to recover from the assault on his brain these exams were. He meets Ron by the lake, where Hermione joins them once she’s done arguing with the examiners. It never helps, but Harry loves her for trying. Harry blocks her word-for-word review of the exam out and falls asleep in the grass. He dreams of Sirius being tortured but notices how it’s ragged at the edges and when he tries to follow the vision into memory, there’s only an empty room. He sits up with a gasp, and sprints straight to McGonagall’s office. She’s not there. Down to Severus’ office. Also not there. He can’t find them on the map, then carves ‘help’ into his pebble.

‘Mortal danger?’ it buzzes back. ‘Vision of Sirius in Department of Mysteries’, Harry writes.

‘Send a Patronus to Dumbledore’, Severus suggests, ‘I’ll make inquiries’ comes a couple of seconds later.

 

Voldemort broke into the Department of Mysteries but no one had to prevent children from dying so all the Death Eaters are captured and sent to Azkaban. Dumbledore won’t tell Harry what any of it was about, except there’s something with a prophecy. As if Harry didn’t know that. Harry doesn’t destroy Dumbledore’s office, just looks at him strangely, then runs back to his dorm. Wrapped in his cloak, he jumps out the window. He’s gotten rather good at cushioning charms from Hogwarts’ Defenders practice and has been working on his levitation. It’s not true flight, but Severus has told him he’ll teach true flight only to those who get O’s in their potions O.W.L.s.

He walks around the tower, prods the brick, sneaks through the corridor and starts crying before he’s even collapsed onto Severus’ sofa. He’s here. He’s safe. Severus has been nursing a drink with worried eyes and shaking hands. Harry can hear him get up to close the door and walk over to the sofa where he peels off the cloak. Kneeling next to sofa, Severus leans his forehead onto Harry’s shoulder, stroking his back as Harry cries himself to sleep.

Harry wakes up feeling cosy and comfortable. His eyes itch strangely and it only takes a moment for him to remember why. The room feels too warm, the woollen throw is pinning him down, there isn’t enough _air_. Severus is with him in seconds, arranging his legs, stroking his back, taking strong, steady breaths.

“Sorry,” Harry says, still a little out of breath.

“What for?”

“Barging in here, panicking, making a scene.”

“Oh Harry,” Severus says, “you’re keyed in to the wards. You and I are the only people that can come and go in these rooms, the only people that can take visitors through. Only you and I can see the door. You’ve never once abused that privilege.”

“Oh,” Harry sighs, “I should have known that.”

“How?”

“The ourobouros, it tingles when there’s magic.”

“The necklace itself?”

“No, my lower back,” Harry explains, voice still a little scratchy. “I’ve been assuming it makes my instincts stronger.”

“Perhaps,” Severus muses, “or maybe it’s reacting to your awareness of magic. Is it strongest when you pass through wards?”

Harry hums, “it’s always there when I’m at the castle, and strongest when I go through certain doors.”

“It might be earth magic,” Severus says, “I’ll think of a way to test it.” Harry leans his head on Severus’ shoulder and tries desperately to focus on flying flying flying.

“Can I stay here tonight?” Harry asks, when the clock chimes curfew.

“Won’t your friends worry?”

Harry thinks for a moment, Ron might be worried if Harry doesn’t report on what happened at the Department of Mysteries.

“Were you there?”

“I wasn’t, not at the Department of Mysteries,” Severus says, shaking his head, “I was upstairs in the atrium. Everybody knows he’s back now Harry, but he never got to hear the whole prophecy.”

“Dumbledore isn’t telling me anything. Let me talk to my friends,” Harry decides, fishing out his HD coin from his pocket. ‘Now’ he tells it, and feels it glow.

“Can I come back?”

“ _My sofa is your sofa_ ,” Severus hisses.

 

Only a handful of the Hogwarts’ Defenders dare coming out after curfew, so it’s just Neville, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Luna. Right when Harry closes the door behind himself, Susan Bones arrives.

“Sorry I’m late,” she pants.

“That’s alright,” Hermione says, “we know you’re all the way in the dungeons.”

“Not why I’m late,” Susan laughs, “no one wanted to leave after curfew but we figured someone should go so they could tell the others what happened at the meeting, and I drew the shortest straw. But all that took a while.”

“Such Hufflepuffs,” Ginny laughs. Susan glares at her, so Ginny adds “in a good way! The best way!”

Harry motions for them to sit, and everyone summons a pillow. He tells them about the ministry, but doesn’t say anything about the prophecy, Sirius, or his vision. Then he dismisses the meeting. When only Ron and Hermione are left, he walks into the corridor to summon Dobby and ask for hot chocolate. Dobby arrives with a tray full of hot chocolate for Ron and Harry, tea for Hermione, and biscuits with and without sugar.

“Hey Hermione,” Ron says, smelling the tea she’s been given, “seems like the house-elves have finally forgiven you.”

Hermione blushes deeply, “I had a talk with Dobby about it, we talked about ways to better help abused house-elves that respect their wishes. I apologized for my ignorance.”

Harry would laugh if he wasn’t about to completely ruin the mood. He makes a mental note to tell Severus his suggestion worked later.

He tells Hermione and Ron about the vision, the Department of Mysteries, and about Sirius. They talk for ages about what this means, what will happen now, why even Legilimency isn’t working, and Harry tells them he doesn’t want to go back to the dorm tonight.

“Sure mate,” Ron says, clapping him on the shoulder, “ask Snape for something for your eyes, you look as if you spent the day cleaning out the attic at Grimmauld place.”

“Ron!” Hermione hisses, “he’s allowed to cry. He must’ve been so worried for Sirius!”

Ron stares at Harry, then at her. “Harry never cries,” he says, as if she’s tried to claim the sky isn’t blue.

Harry huffs, “tell Severus that. It helped that I know he’s probably safe in Germany, and that I could tell the vision was fake.” He doesn't need them to know that it wasn't Sirius he was worried about.

They walk together to the split off for the Gryffindor tower, then Harry jumps down the stairs. His landing isn’t graceful, but he’s stopped falling over from the strangely wobbly feeling of standing on something that’s been charmed soft. 

 

“Everything’s gonna change now, isn’t it?” Harry asks Severus that evening over the game of chess Harry is decidedly not going to win.

“I think so,” Severus says softly, then urges his knight beat Harry’s queen to death.

 

To absolutely no one’s surprise, Harry is made to go back to the Dursleys. He works in the garden, visits the library, reads books. Blocks out nightmares by thinking of kissing and fireplaces and hot chocolate. Happy Dreams is for falling back asleep when he wakes up from a nightmare. The twins have given him a collection of fake wands that just spit out sparks when you try to use them. Harry keeps at least one of them on him at all times but has learned his lesson about keeping his real wand close too. It’s the first summer he gets to keep all his stuff. Severus can’t always come meet him at the library, but Harry still goes there to work on his summer homework.

“Why do runes work better when you place them in a circle?” Harry asks one day as he’s working on the translation of a spell he thinks might be for growing larger chickens.

“They’re not circles,” Severus tells him, “they just look like circles if you have enough runes.”

Harry traces the spell with his finger. “A hexagon,” he says. “That’s Arithmancy.”

“And now you know why you need both,” Severus grins.

“You know I’ve been thinking about the visions and dreams.”

Severus just nods at him, fixes Harry in place with a dark stare.

“The ones I had before last year were different, I couldn’t leave them. Now I can leave the dreams whenever I want to. That’s how I knew the vision was fake, I tried to follow it into memory and found an empty room.”

“That makes sense, doesn’t it?” Severus tilts his head a little, exposes a long pale throat. “You’ve been learning Legilimency and Occlumency.”

“Since Christmas. But the way I dream of Voldemort things changed before that, maybe even in summer. It’s like I’m watching from outside now, like there’s glass between me and the dream. I’m no longer the one doing it.”

“Interesting,” Severus hums, “have you thought about reasons?”

Harry nods, “I’m writing down every dream I can remember and the circumstances I had them in.”

 

Harry gets the letter from Dumbledore telling him to be ready and meets a pale Severus at the library that day.

“Silencing spell,” he says. Severus casts it without even touching his wand. Harry slides the letter from Dumbledore across the table. Severus reads it, folds it, and gives it back.

“Now what has you shaken up?” Harry says, grabbing Severus’ hand.

“See for yourself,” Severus tells him, and Harry does, sliding into Severus’ thoughts like he’s never left. Narcissa and Bellatrix, the Unbreakable Vow. Harry curses. Severus did a lot of lying there, he has no idea what he just vowed to do and things are not good.

“This is so dangerous for you, and what has it brought us?”

“Pain,” Severus tells him. “The only useful bits of information I get are when he tells Nagini in great detail how stupid everyone is.”

Harry feels a flash of pride, he’s proud of Severus, that they’ve managed to get Severus practically fluent in Parseltongue. The snakes have taken to calling him the almost-speaker, which makes Severus stand a little taller every time he hears it.

“The problem with Albus,” Severus sighs, “is that he’s so damn _charming_. He makes you feel warm and safe, he comforts you when you’re upset, and he doesn’t tell you anything at all.”

“He also doesn’t trust anyone, wouldn’t listen about Quirrell, wouldn’t listen about the Basilisk, only trusts his own analysis.”

“That too.” Severus looks at Harry, “the Dark Lord was charming too, you know, before. You’ll never get to see him like that because whatever strange madness he carries is getting worse, but when I first met him, we talked about Potions, and he was so clever, so sharp.”

“Must’ve been a relief,” Harry says, staring back, “to be talked to as if you were smart, as if you mattered.”

They both don’t say anything for a long time.

“I feel strangely apprehensive about leaving the Dursleys,” Harry tells Severus, “I’ll miss seeing you and I really was looking forward to spending my birthday together.”

“You’re nowhere near sorting the garden too,” Severus adds. 

“I know Petunia can read,” Harry grumbles, “I wish she’d exercise the skill. I make all these pretty notes and she just doesn’t do it.”

“Perhaps,” Severus says, “this means that Albus took my warning about your home life to heart.”

“I hope so, if not for my sake then at least for the sake of other students in similar situations,” Harry squeezes Severus’ hand before letting go. “How can we get a day together to celebrate my birthday?”

“Nobody knows I consider you an expert at Occlumency and Legilimency?”

“Only Ron and Hermione,” Harry smiles. “Do I write you a letter begging you to take me back so the situation from the Department of Mysteries never repeats itself?”

“Do it, tonight. I’ll write you one back to say I’ll accept your most humble apologies only if you come with me to collect some nasty potions ingredient.”

“Kelpie snot?” Harry suggests, and Severus laughs.

“I was going to suggest something with unicorns since everybody knows I’m too tainted to come anywhere near them.”

“That’s a lie,” Harry tells him, feeling offended on Severus’ behalf, “the unicorns love you.”

Severus laughs harder. “Kelpie snot it is.”

  

Their plan works perfectly and Severus arranges to pick Harry up the morning of the 30th. Molly gives him a look full of pity when he asks her if professor Snape has ever been to the Burrow or should he write him with the address? Harry spends his whole first night at the Burrow trying desperately not to wake Ron with his pebble vibrating and his laughing at the awful things Severus says about Slughorn. The pebbles are better for short messages but Severus manages to cram elaborate descriptions of incompetence on the small stone in scraggly handwriting.

 

When Harry gets his O.W.L. results, he hides in the bathroom to send Severus his scores. O’s for everything but Arithmancy and Astronomy, which he got EE’s for. Hermione got an EE in Defence and is actually upset until Harry promises they’ll continue Hogwarts’ Defenders so she’ll make an O on her N.E.W.T. for sure. Severus tells him at least five times that he’s _proud_ and _pleased_ and _well done, Harry_.


	10. Year 6 - The Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When Harry gets his O.W.L. results, he hides in the bathroom to send Severus his scores. O’s for everything but Arithmancy and Astronomy, which he got EE’s for. Hermione got an EE in Defence and is actually upset until Harry promises they’ll continue Hogwarts’ Defenders so she’ll make an O on her N.E.W.T. for sure. Severus tells him at least five times that he’s _proud_ and _pleased_ and _well done, Harry_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halfway there! I love feedback, thank you everyone that's been reading and commenting, it makes my day <3

The 30th dawns bright and early, with absolutely perfect weather. Harry stays in bed until six, then bounces down for breakfast. He tries to look nervous instead of excited, which seems to work well enough. Molly lets him help prepare breakfast, they see Bill off together and are sitting with Arthur while he eats when Severus knocks at 8 exactly.

“Come in,” Molly coos, “let me make you some breakfast.”

Harry almost laughs at the look of despair on Severus’ face.

“I’m afraid I can’t Molly, I’ve eaten and we have quite a trip ahead of us.”

Molly talks him into accepting sandwiches for lunch and makes him promise to have Harry home before midnight. Severus nods, looking so uncomfortable with all the attention that Harry wants to tell Molly to back off. At half past, Severus and Harry finally leave the house, Severus grabs his hand, and they disappear in a flash.

“Was that far?” Harry teases when they arrive. “It didn’t feel far.”

“No, I lied,” Severus admits, “we’re still in the South West.”

Harry looks around. They’re in an alley off a marketplace. It’s not busy, but then it’s early and it’s Tuesday.

“We’re in Godric’s Hollow,” Severus tells him. He looks nervous, his eyes tight. “I promise I’ll take you away from here if you don’t want this.”

Harry swallows. He looks around again. “Tell me what you’re planning?”

“The graveyard, then the house. But again, if you don’t want it –”

“I’ll let you know,” Harry says, placing a hand on Severus’ arm to stop him talking. “I’ll let you know if I want to leave, and then you’ll Apparate me straight to the sea so I can yell into the wind.”

“We might need that afterwards regardless,” Severus admits.

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Harry decides. “Lead the way.”

Severus taps him on his head and he feels the sticky Disillusionment charm trickle down. Then Severus taps himself and he disappears too. Harry feels around for Severus’ arm and takes it.

“Do you want to see the statue?” Severus asks him before they leave the alley.

“What statue?”

“There’s a statue of your family just down that way.”

They go to the statue but it’s the strangest thing Harry has ever seen, his parents hewn from stone, so they walk on quickly. Harry doesn’t see anything in town that he recognizes, but Severus does

“This is where I first met you,” he says as they walk past a pub. “They don’t allow women and children in, but your mum confounded everyone that tried to kick her out. Said it’s the only place in town that made a decent shepherd’s pie.”

“Did you see each other often?”

“Not at all, I wasn’t invited to the wedding but she sent me a note when you were born. I wrote back to congratulate her and we got to talking. She told me to meet her here around November, right before they went into hiding.”

“I must’ve so small and useless.”

“You were,” Severus laughs, “but Lily made me hold you and you knew not to shout at potions masters instinctively.”

“Doubt it, considering how much I shout at you,” Harry laughs too. It’s a funny mental image. “Must’ve been the touching thing.”

Severus turns his head quickly to read his face, “perhaps.” He frowns while they walk, and Harry thinks maybe Severus forgot that Harry knows, maybe he thought it wasn’t obvious. Maybe he thought he had more time before Harry would figure it out.

 

They arrive at the cemetery next to the church and Severus takes them around. He lets the Disillusionment charm fade as they walk. They sit in front of the graves for a while, and Severus produces a box from the pouch on his belt that Harry knows has been charmed to have infinite space. The box has gardening tools, pots of plants Harry recognizes and ones he does not, bags of bulbs and seeds, and a sketch of the stretch of neglected dirt in front of the gravestone detailing where everything should go.

“If you don’t want to...” Severus starts, but Harry interrupts him.

“I want nothing more, this is exactly what it needs.”

Severus gets started on the bulbs. They look like daffodils. Harry takes a rosemary bush out of its pot, digs a hole for it, and pops it in, then puts a lavender bush next to it. Severus does the seeds; the daisies, the zinnia, the dandelions. Harry the statice and the camellia. Lastly, Severus takes three different kinds of fertilizer out, and shows Harry the plants that prefer nitrogen poor, which plants prefer nitrogen rich, which plants are vulnerable to slugs.

“Layered so it’ll bloom often, mostly plants that will last or spread, it’s perfect,” Harry decides. He leans over the grave once more, breathing in the scent of plants and dirt.

“Bye mum and dad,” he traces their names on the stone, takes a good look at Severus’ face, and pulls him away from the graveyard. On their way out, Severus hits him with a cleaning charm, Disillusions them both again, then takes the lead.

The cottage is a wreck, the sign in front of it makes Harry’s heart twist, but the look on Severus’ face hurts worst.

“You’ve been here before.”

“But only...” Severus takes a deep breath.

“After,” Harry finishes for him.

“I thought if we could walk around inside, we might find the photo albums. Perhaps there are books you might like to take to the vault. The structure won’t collapse, I’ve checked.”

They steel themselves with deep breaths, then go in, using the key from the key ring they’d found in the vault. Harry is grateful for the experience in the Room of Requirement, glad this isn’t the first time since he was a baby that he’s stood in this living room. It’s as much of a mess as you’d expect from a house that had a wall blown out over a decade ago, but the preservation charms someone must’ve cast are holding. Severus and him speed through the bookshelves in the living room, then the ones in the study, and rush out.

“How long was that?” Harry gasps, his arms full.

“Twenty minutes, maybe thirty.”

“It felt like a hundred years,” Harry groans handing off the books and albums and pictures from the wall to Severus, who stuffs them in his infinite pouch.

 

Severus Apparates them straight onto the cliffs of Dover, checks the tide, then flies down to the sea. Harry leaps after him, relying on Severus’ skills in levitation and cushioning. They shout into the wind until they’re both hoarse and panting. Harry looks away when he sees the expression on Severus' face, but takes his hand to squeeze it.

 

The pull of Apparition takes him by surprise, as does the sudden absence of sound. They break for lunch under a cluster of trees in the middle of a field. It’s quiet and peaceful and still. No people, no roaring sea. Harry feels exhausted. Drained.

“Where are we?” Harry asks, staring up at the leaves that block out most of the sun.

“The nearest town is Bepton, I believe. There’s a bit of a cluster of hazelnut trees near that I found while exploring a few years ago.”

“I love it here,” Harry sighs.

Severus hands him three parcels, and Harry sits straight up and carefully opens the paper of the biggest one. It’s a braided belt, green and black, that he touches reverently. “Hebridian and Common Welsh?”

“Yes,” Severus sighs, handing him the next present. It’s a pouch like the ones Severus wears on his belt, striped brown and black. He touches one of the brown strips, “Norwegian Ridgeback?”

“Yes, now open this one,” Severus smiles, handing him the last one, another pouch. Red and green.

“Chinese Fireball,” Harry says. There’s only one type of dragon this could possibly be.

“Thank you, Severus, they’re beautiful,” Harry says, “but won’t everyone know I got this from you? I’ve never seen anyone else wear pouches like this.”

“Haven’t you heard?” Severus smiles at him, “they’re all the rage now. Draco Malfoy got one from his parents for his birthday, though they went with all Antipodean Opaleye. Every store sells them, they’re the highest of high fashion.”

Harry laughs and laughs, what planning must’ve gone into this. He lets himself fall back into the grass. Severus lies down next to him.

“I really appreciate this,” Harry tells him honestly, relaxing back into the grass. “I’ve been looking forward to this for ages, can’t wait to see what you’ll find to represent your family next year.”

Severus makes a strange noise, “excuse me what?” He's staring at Harry with scared eyes and it takes Harry a full two seconds to realize they’ve never talked of this before, that Severus never realized before that Harry has known for years. That he wanted Severus to tell him in his own time. 

“Oh no, Severus,” Harry turns onto his side and takes Severus’ hands, “no, don’t do that, don’t be afraid. I love this, I love wondering what comes next, I’m happy with the pace you’ve set.”

Severus still looks like he might like to start running and never stop, “how long? How long have you known?”

Harry shifts both of Severus’ hands into one of his and pushes the hair out of Severus’ face.

“I suspected after the flowers, and the song confirmed it.”

“Oh Merlin,” Severus sits up violently, covering his face with his hands, “thirteen, you were thirteen. You’re a child, I never thought – I shouldn’t have –” Then with feeling: “ _Merlin_ help me.”

Harry shushes him, sitting up too, “we’re alright Severus, we’re alright.” Severus is breathing too fast. Narrow shoulders folded in, legs pulled up.

He desperately tries to think of something that will make Severus forget about the courting and settles on flying.

“I got that O in Potions you know,” he says to Severus’ covered face. It’s such a strange non-sequitur that Severus looks at him. Wide eyes flushed cheeks. Misery.

“You did, you did very well,” his voice sounds off.

“Teach me to fly.”

It works. Severus tells him about hovering above the ground, or maybe his bed or a cushioning charm, to practice. About halfway through this explanation he sits up straighter, finds his voice, then keeps talking. He tells Harry to focus on the feeling of flying like he does when he clears his mind. Harry crosses his legs, closes his eyes, and thinks _up_. When he opens his eyes, he’s at least five feet in the air. He falls immediately, then laughs while Severus shows off, rising into the air gracefully, doing a slow, controlled flip, and sinking down again.

“Work on landing from increasingly higher leaps but tell me if you want to practice more elaborate things than floating please, Molly Weasley would kill me if you hurt yourself.”

Harry laughs again, she really would, “now will you please tell me how this green and red bag represents my mother? Unless it’s only the colours.”

Severus lies back down, then rolls onto his side, facing Harry. “It’s infinite. Your mum taught me that charm and she was fantastic at charms in general. Don’t put your wand in there before you can summon it wandlessly, or you’ll have to ask for help getting it back. Even then, I wouldn’t recommend putting your wand in there.”

“Why not?”

“Infinite space is cold. The dragon hide protects you from harm but sticking your hand in there isn’t pleasant.”

“How about this one?” Harry holds up the brown and black bag.

“That one is for your wand. It won’t fit much else. It’s impermeable and will protect your wand from harm in the most extreme conditions. Duellers have pouches like this for their second wand, in case they get disarmed or it breaks.”

“How is that my dad?”

Severus bites his lip, then looks at Harry. It’s bright enough, the summer light, even in the shade, that his eyes show their brown. “He protects what’s his. That, and it comes back when you lose it. It’s a... complicated bit of magic that doesn’t combine well with extension charms, so I didn’t manage doing it for both, but this,” he taps the pouch with his finger, “will be by your side the second you need it. Loyalty.”

Harry blinks at him, touches Severus’ cheekbone, and whispers, “kindness.”

To break the tension, Severus holds up the belt. “The maker made this belt to be indestructible, literally. He actually felt the need to tell me that the killing curse couldn’t harm it. I know it is in your nature to do the impossible, but this is supposed to be able to withstand even your best efforts.”

Harry laughs at that and sits up to loop the belt through his jeans. He’s wearing Muggle clothes for the occasion but is looking forward to seeing this over some proper robes. The pouches have a small silver claw each that Harry isn’t sure how to operate.

“You’ll have to let them bite you,” Severus grins. “They’ll only open for you once they’ve been set with your blood.”

“Ai,” Harry whines when the second bite hurts worse than the first. Severus laughs and sits up to heal Harry with a quick whisper.

“I found an Indian restaurant in London,” Severus says airily when they’re both lying down again. “If you’re interested.”

Harry nods happily, “absolutely.”

“It’s,” Severus hesitates, “a little posher than jeans and a t-shirt. I asked Miss Granger to pack you some clothes?”

“Oh, yes,” Harry says, “Mrs. Weasley gave me this.” He takes a shrunken duffle bag from his pocket. “She called it my post mud-traipsing outfit.”

“One can always count on Miss Granger’s ability to plan ahead,” Severus says happily, which makes Harry stare at him.

“You know I’m telling her you said that.”

Severus pretends to think on it for a moment, “you may, it will be your birthday present.”

Together, Harry and Severus walk through the forest. Then they Apparate into Diagon Ally, where Severus scowls at everything that moves while Harry visits a cobbler to buy some new boots. They talk loudly of Kelpie snot the whole time. Severus keeps nudging him towards a pair of black suede boots called ‘Chelsea’, so Harry just gives in. They do fit him nicely.

Harry and Severus change into their restaurant clothes in the bathroom of the Leaky Cauldron, and Harry is very pleased to see what Hermione packed for him. Dark grey woollen trousers he bought during his last trip to Hogsmeade, a crisp white shirt, and a dark green jumper he’s never seen before. When he puts the jumper on, a note falls out. ‘Happy birthday Harry, hope the jumper suits you as well as I think it might. H’

“A birthday present from Miss Granger?”

Harry hums, inspecting himself in the mirror. Washing his hair the way his grandmother told him too helps, but after the day they’ve had it’s a mess. Severus sees him fuss and laughs.

“It’s all luggy,” Severus chuckles.

“Stop that,” Harry whines, “just because everything you wear looks grateful to be touching you doesn’t mean all of us have such luck. What even is luggy?”

“Oh,” Severus gets two spots of pink on his cheeks, fixes his Muggle jacket, “it means hard to brush, tangled. Untameable. It might be slang from around Cokeworth.”

 

Over dinner Harry tells Severus about rereading Joseph Campbell and finally understanding it. They talk about the Unbreakable Vow, what Malfoy could be up to, how Severus teaching Defence is connected to it all.

“You don’t seem happy about that,” Harry says.

“You saw professor Dumbledore’s hand did you not?”

Harry hums, it looked awful. “That curse is going to kill him,” Severus whispers.

They’re both quiet until the waitress comes and after they order Harry decides to change the topic to something hopefully more birthday-appropriate.

“You said duellers use the wand pouch for a second wand. Do you have one?”

“I do,” Severus says, laying his familiar black walnut wand on the table. Harry thinks what the Muggles would think if they saw them comparing sticks. Severus puts two fingers in the smallest pouch on his belt, then draws out another wand. It looks rough and doesn’t have anything carved into it. 

“Hawthorn?” Harry asks.

Severus hums, “my wand stopped working for me the summer after I turned seventeen and I went to Ollivander to get a new one. He told me black walnut doesn’t like self-deception and that I should sort through that instead of blaming a perfectly good wand. Gregorovitch sold me the hawthorn and unicorn hair one.”

“Isn’t hawthorn and unicorn hair kind of a contradiction?”

“I assume that’s why it chose me. I only use it in front of the Dark Lord, otherwise I prefer the black walnut. Hawthorn works, but it isn’t...”

“Home.” Harry finishes for him.

“Yes, exactly,” Severus says. “How do you know that?”

“We swapped wands at HD practice, some don’t work at all, some work fine, but I was always happy to go back to my own.”

“You practiced casting with each other’s wands?”

“Yes of course, it’s in your curriculum,” Harry grins.

“For seventh years, Harry.”

“Well,” Harry says innocently, “can’t explain it if I haven’t practiced it myself, can I?”

“Could you talk me through everything you covered in the Hogwarts’ Defenders? I’ll need to rearrange my curriculum so it’s not obvious you’ve seen it.”

They spend the rest of the evening talking about HD practices, what worked and what didn’t work, how Harry should expand this year, get more people to join.

“You should tell professor McGonagall,” Severus tells him as they walk to an alley. “She can help you spread the word.”

“You think she’d approve?”

“If you write her a letter telling her you started it because your friends asked you for help, that you did it to stick it to Umbridge, that you’d like to offer more people a chance to get better at Defence? Absolutely. Don’t refer to it as Hogwarts’ Defenders, tell her it’s a study group for Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

They Apparate straight into the front garden. Harry checks the curtains are closed and gives Severus a quick hug.

“I had a wonderful day, thank you.”

“Harry,” Severus stills him, “about the things we’re not going to mention again until you’re eighteen.”

Harry blinks at him, Severus looks around nervously, “you may tell your friends if you wish. I’ve no desire to make you keep more secrets than necessary and they have proven to be trustworthy.”

The door flies open and Mrs Weasley tries to convince Severus to come in, but he says something about a potion and disappears. The living room at the Burrow is stuffed with Weasleys and Hermione, and they all sing happy birthday when the clock strikes midnight.

“D’you think professor Snape knows it’s your birthday?” Ginny asks when Harry has been squeezed in on one of the couches. Ron snorts.

“Imagine getting a birthday present from Snape!” Bill says.

Fred chimes in: “What would he even get you?”

“Books,” Hermione says.

“Potions,” says Ron.

“Potions ingredients!” Says George.

“Snakes,” smiles Harry, and everyone laughs.

 

That night, Hermione sneaks out of Ginny’s room to join Harry and Ron. Harry tells them about the cliffs in Dover, about Indian food and sandwiches in the forest. After Ron falls asleep, Harry whispers to Hermione about the belt, the pouches, Godric’s Hollow. He thinks she knows what that means, but she doesn’t bring it up.

When Hermione has snuck back out, Harry takes his pebble out of his pocket. ‘Thank you for today,’ he writes, then ‘I won’t lie if they ask, but I’d rather wait for them to figure it out.’

Severus doesn’t take long to respond. ‘You’re welcome,’ he writes, then he dares Harry to correct the potions listed in the Advanced Potion-Making book when he buys his copy. He promises he’ll look over it for Harry when they get to Hogwarts.

 

Severus is _seething_ when Harry gets off the Hogwarts’ Express, still covered in blood and bruises. He’s very rude to Tonks, then takes Harry to the Entrance Hall, where they stand huddled in an alcove while Harry tells his story and Severus checks him for broken bones. Severus heals and cleans him, then sends him off to eat.

“Barely two weeks with the Dursleys,” Harry says, “not like I lost weight this summer.”

“Still, it wouldn’t do to let Mr. Malfoy think he managed to do you harm. Stop being reckless.”

“I have _really_ missed you,” Harry sighs happily, something like relief trickling along his skin.

 

Ron ends up getting the Half-Blood Prince’s book because Harry got an O in Potions. Harry still makes a perfect potion because he is almost done making corrections in his copy of Advanced Potions-Making. When he tells Severus that whoever decided it was a good idea to use the same book for over 50 years should be fired, Severus laughs for ages.

“Old Slughorn,” he manages finally. “Never could be bothered to read. There aren’t other books though, it’s why I just write the instructions on the blackboard.”

Harry hums, “you should write a book, you’d be good at it I think.”

“I think between the two of us,” Severus smiles and makes an arm movement in the direction of the bookshelf that holds the notebook full of stories he’d given Severus for Christmas in first year, “you’re the better writer, Scheherazade.”

“Yeah, well,” Harry blushes, “speaking of writing. Ron got this new book in Potions today and actually managed to produce a reasonable potion. Hermione and I were still better, but Malfoy was livid.”

“What book was it?” Severus asks curiously.

Harry feels around his book bag for it, “let me find it. I told Ron I’d get you to have a look at it and see if the suggestions are dangerous. I had a peek at dinner and they look alright to me.”

He gives Severus the book, then gets the rare treat of seeing him completely flustered. Severus pets the book, opens it with shaking hands, leaves through it reverently.

“You’re the Half-Blood Prince I take it?” Harry asks mildly.

Severus nods and hums, searching for specific passages and pages.

“Harry I was very angry when I wrote some of this,” he says finally. “I’ve no objection to you or Mr. Weasley having it, but perhaps it would be better if you give Mr. Weasley your annotated copy and use this one for yourself. I believe you’ll recognize most additions and improvements easily and I trust you’ll never cast something you’ve not practiced on a target first on a person.”

Harry nods, that sounds reasonable. “Two questions then, could you read through the last ten pages of my copy so I can give Ron a finished book, and am I allowed to tell them it was your copy first?”

“Yes, and yes,” Severus says, without taking his eyes off the book. Harry observes him fondly. Thinks idly about whether Severus would jerk away or lean in if he tried to touch his face now, push his hair behind his ear like he wants to.

 

The best part about professor McGonagall knowing of the Hogwarts’ Defenders is that they are now allowed to use the third floor Transfiguration classroom for practice. Hermione is exceptional at conjuring targets, and Harry is skilled enough with cushioning charms that they barely miss the Room. It’s definitely more inconspicuous than having students from all over the castle sneak up to the seventh floor.

 

After Dumbledore shows Harry the memory of the Gaunt house and tells Harry about how Voldemort was born, Harry tosses on his cloak and goes straight to the dungeons. When he walks in, Severus is grading papers while sitting on the carpet.

“Since I have Defence with you now,” Harry starts after closing the door. “Do we change our deal about grades to Defence? Or are we sticking with Potions?”

Severus laughs, “go make hot chocolate, brat.”

Harry walks on to the kitchen and sets the pan on the fire, he collects all the ingredients from around the kitchen, and comes back with steaming mugs a couple of minutes later.

“I really am asking, you know,” he says as he hands Severus a mug.

“How about both?” Severus offers, “every O for either course gets you a secret.” Harry feels his face fall.

“If you’re doing this because you think you won’t be here next year...” he says, frowning.

“We need to remember the reality we live in,” Severus tells him, “between the curse, the Dark Lord getting stronger, Dumbledore getting weaker, and your adulthood, it’s naïve not to prepare.”

Harry nods, then sits down next to Severus on the carpet. “You’re right of course and I’ll happily take our new and improved deal.”

Severus pats him on the knee, and they drink their hot chocolate while Harry tells him about the memory and what Dumbledore told him afterwards.

“I think we need to bring Hermione in,” he says finally.

“Why would we do that?”

“I don't think this is going to be like the other mystery's we've solved. We'll need our allies. Malfoy knows we’re trying to figure out what he’s up to, Hermione is unobtrusive in ways we’ve never been. She’s also smart and hasn’t stared herself blind on this yet.”

To his surprise Severus nods slowly. “Alright then, bring her over after dinner when you don’t have other plans.”

“Speaking of our deal, I believe it’s time I ask you about the best place to look at the stars.”

“Roof of the headmaster’s tower. I’ll show you how to get there some other time if you don’t mind,” Severus answers, waving at the papers he’s working on.

“Fair.” Harry nods and settles in his chair with his homework. If he finishes his star chart soon he’ll have some time to read Severus’ potions book before curfew.

 

Hermione comes with Harry three days later, takes deep breaths not to ask a million questions at once, then sits on the sofa drinking tea and taking notes while Severus and Harry talk her through everything they know.

“If I'm understanding all this correctly, we have knowledge professor Dumbledore is sick and dying, Malfoy has some task he needs to perform, professor Dumbledore has some task to perform that he seems to be passing on to Harry, and we’d like to plan accordingly.”

“That’s right,” Severus says.

“I think we’re going to need Ron.”

“Perhaps, but I’d really like to avoid it. He’s never seen Severus like this and Ron always takes some time to adjust.”

“I understand,” she says warmly, “now what do you think will happen to the school when professor Dumbledore dies? Will professor McGonagall become headmistress?”

 

After Hermione leaves, Severus and Harry go feed the snakes together.  They laugh as the snakes clamour and hiss about food and mice and how much they want to kill.

“I went back to the room where everything is hidden today,” Harry says, fishing a squealing mouse out of the cage and tossing it in with his favourite green snake.

“ _There you go love,”_ he tells her gently. She hisses back shyly, “ _thank you, speaker, would you perhaps silence it for me? I’m worried about my scales_.”

“I had the feeling again, that bad feeling, I think it might be some dark item that Hogwarts’ wards don’t like,” Harry explains as he Stupefies the mouse.

Severus thinks for a moment, then nudges Harry along to the sink so they can wash their hands.

“That is not impossible,” he says finally, “wards can be made to protect from certain kinds of magic, from specific people, or maybe the wards that protect the inhabitants of the castle recognize the item as a threat.”

Harry nods, “that makes sense with Grimmauld place then, I doubt they’d have specific wards against Voldemort but the other two hold.”

“The Dark Lord?”

Harry hums, “when I was in the room, I recognized the feeling. I had it in the chamber too, before I stabbed the book with a Basilisk tooth.”

“In that case,” Severus says slowly, “perhaps we should go stab some more items with Basilisk teeth.”

“I really don’t want to go back to the Chamber Severus,” Harry warns.

“I did it last year, collected everything useful, then incinerated the corpse.”

Harry laughs, “ _of course you did, almost-speaker_.”

 

In bed at night, Harry practices the Half-Blood Prince’s spells on a pillow that he’s had to repair more times than he can count by now. Severus talks him through how he came up with the spells, how he worked out the wand movements behind them, and Harry starts experimenting a little for the first time. He’s working on a spell that will turn any inanimate object into a moving dragon statue to match the one he has from the Triwizard Tournament, to the hilarity of Ron and the annoyance of everyone else. He thinks professor McGonagall is equal parts impressed and worried, which makes sense considering he’s accidentally set things on fire a couple of times now.

These days, Harry throws Silencing spell after Silencing spell at the curtains on his bed not because he's worried about nightmares, but because he's woken up Dean by laughing out loud at Severus' book before. It wouldn't do to have to explain why 'shove a bezoar down their throats' is so funny to Harry. 


	11. Year 6 - Horcruxes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "“In that case,” Severus says slowly, “perhaps we should go stab some more items with Basilisk teeth.”
> 
> “I really don’t want to go back to the Chamber Severus,” Harry warns.
> 
> “I did it last year, collected everything useful, then incinerated the corpse.”
> 
> Harry laughs, “of course you did, almost-speaker.”"

Harry and Severus find the diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw in the Room of Requirement. Harry stabs it before Severus can touch it, then scolds Severus for almost touching something that he knew was Dark as if he’d learned nothing from Dumbledore. Harry makes Severus take him to Grimmauld Place the next weekend so they can destroy the locket together. They have a small screaming match about the spiderwebs in Severus’ hair that makes them realize the locket might be gone but evil sticks and lingers.

After giving the broken locket to a very happy Kreacher, they sit on the roof together staring at the London sky. Vaguely orange reflection of lights on clouds instead of crisp black and stars.

“Easier to feel huge without all the stars around, isn’t it? I don’t miss them at all.”

Severus hums. “I wasn’t good at Astronomy either.”

“You do fine helping me,” Harry frowns.

“It’s easier to explain things that you worked hard to understand sometimes.”

“Yeah, you really are a rubbish potions teacher,” Harry grins, and Severus scowls at him before his whole face cracks open as Harry chuckles a little.

“You need to work on your sarcasm.”

“Pish,” Harry giggles. “You need to work on trusting me.”

They stare at a car that drives along the road suspiciously slowly until it disappears around a corner.

“Slughorn was your Potions teacher, right?”

Severus turns to look at him, nods slowly. “Why do you ask?”

“Wondering how he was when you were a student but then I remembered you already told me about him. He’s the one that gave you A’s for perfect potions.”

“I didn’t follow the instructions. I only ever got two O’s in Potions, my O.W.L. and my N.E.W.T.”

“Bet he had those regraded,” Harry mutters darkly.

“He didn’t, as far as I know, and I don’t know which is worse,” Severus’ mouth twitches unhappily. “I’m really glad he likes you."

“You’ve always been good at that,” Harry leans his head on Severus shoulder and sighs. 

“At what?”

“Not begrudging me things you didn’t have.”

“The only thing I’ve ever wanted Harry,” Severus whispers, so slow Harry could be imagining it, “since I first heard of your existence, was for you to have all the things I didn’t.”

After Katie Bell is taken to the hospital wing, Harry goes to tell professor McGonagall that he suspects Draco gave it to her. When he’s done that, he rushes to the dungeons, grabs the notes Hermione and Severus have been carefully organizing and leaves him a message. ‘I think this is where we bring in Ron, please meet us at the HD classroom when you’re available.’

Ron and Hermione meet him in the classroom, they ward the door against people listening in, and together with Hermione he explains what is happening. Ron is reading through the notes when Severus steps out of a portrait on the far end of the classroom.

“Merlin’s balls,” Ron swears, blushes an ugly red, then stands up to apologize. Severus chuckles and sticks out his hand for Ron to shake.

“Call me Severus,” he says, which makes Ron splutter, “that is, if you warded this room properly.”

“We did,” Harry promises.

It only takes Hermione two well placed questions to get Ron back on track, and they talk about Malfoy, Dumbledore, and the cursed objects until curfew. Ron seems interested in the object Malfoy was asking about in Knockturn Alley, and Harry promises to tell him if he remembers anything else from that day.

“Severus,” Ron says before they leave, sounding very awkward. “May I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Severus says.

“I mean no offence, but why are you doing this with three sixteen-year-olds?”

“I’m not,” Severus tells him, “I tell professor Dumbledore everything I notice with regards to the Dark Lord, as is my duty as a member of the Order. He seems to have plans for Harry and you two have never willingly let Harry do anything alone. I’m helping you prepare.”

“And if we find out what’s going on in the process, then that can help you prepare too?”

“Exactly,” Severus grins, “I did take an Unbreakable Vow to complete a task I know nothing about.”

  
Halloween comes and Harry gets a box of pumpkin-shaped chocolates. He eats them with Hermione, tucked into an alcove on the fifth floor, looking over the grounds.

“Where do you get these?”

“He makes them for me,” Harry pops another one into his mouth. Hermione blinks away tears.

“Not an easy day for him either,” she says, hoarsely. Harry thinks he could make her tell him what’s actually bothering her but decides it’s probably kinder not to. He tells her instead about the spells he’s learned from Severus’ book. They spend the evening practicing them together.

  
After the Quidditch match, Ron and Hermione fighting, and sodding Lavender suddenly turning into a human barnacle, Harry starts avoiding the Gryffindor common room as well as the boy’s dorm. He’s tired of snogging, and people talking about girls, and being made fun of for reading the Prince’s book for the 400th time. Severus is just so clever, and Hermione agrees but doesn’t think he’s funny as well, which means she’s missing the whole point. Really.

  
Plotting is hard while Hermione and Ron are fighting, but Severus has a talk with Hermione one night, and it helps. Harry is quite sure he doesn’t want to know what was said, but Hermione stops avoiding Ron as much, even if she still seems to hate Lavender and the sound of snogging. Which is fair, snogging sounds awful.

“Thank you for talking to Hermione,” Harry tells Severus as they’re cooking dinner together.

Severus hands him an onion for slicing. Harry pushes the veggies he’s already cut into the baking tray to make space for the onions on his cutting board.

“Do you feel it helped? I’m never sure what to say.”

“I think it did. It was really kind of you to try in any case.”

“Selfish more like,” Severus snorts. “They need to be able to work together.”

“How could that be selfish? Love, friendship?” Harry shoves the potatoes Severus has been cleaning into the tray and after splattering it all with oil he pushes it all into the oven.

“It’s always rather selfish isn’t it? Love.” Severus gives him an intense look. “Just because I’d die for you, doesn’t mean there aren’t a million things I want. Selfishly.”

Harry thinks on that for a moment, leaning against the counter. “I think it’s the difference between wanting and taking. Wanting isn’t selfish, taking what wasn’t given is. You also want things for me that aren’t in your best interest. That’s the opposite of selfish.”

  
The last Defence class before the holidays is horrible and it’s midnight by the time Harry is done with his homework while trying to avoid looking at Romilda Vane accidentally since every time he does she strikes up conversation. He is tired of his friends being horrible to each other, tired of worrying. He storms down to the dungeons and enters Severus’ chambers rather less sedately than he should.

“I’m working,” Severus warns. Harry huffs and goes to make tea, clanging about things as he does. When he drops a cup in his haste to turn of the _irritating_ noise of that _horrible_ kettle, it shatters loudly on the tiles. Severus is in the kitchen in a second, drawn by the noise.

“My favourite cup?”

“I didn’t mean to!” Harry feels his face flush. He spells the cup whole again easily and gives it to Severus. “There!”

“Please tell me you’re not still upset about the girl?”

Harry is holding the teapot as Severus says it and nearly throws the whole thing against the wall. “ _Excuse me for not being interested in cow-eyed women_!”

“ _Put the teapot down and go sit on the couch_ ,” Severus orders him, sounding strict even in Parseltongue. Harry does as he’s told, knowing this will only get worse if he doesn’t.

A few minutes later, Severus appears with a tray of tea and a large box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. Harry has been focusing on flying so he laughs when he sees the box.

“The family pack?”

Severus nods, the corner of his mouth twitching a little. “In my experience about half are nice. If you include things that aren't revolting, you end up with about three-quarters of a carton.”

He sits down next to Harry and offers a small smile when Harry curls in to him. “The first time I tried them, I had a snot one.”

Harry makes a noise of disgust for him.

“It wasn’t so much the taste, as it was the idea that this was someone else’s snot. The first spell I ever developed was to pick out the ones I like. It’s a bit... Clumsy. But I’ll teach you.”

They spend an hour or so coming up with possible flavours, laughing when _Eligo Caramel_ produces no beans, but _Eligo Swamp_ makes at least ten beans fly into Severus’ outstretched hand. He Vanishes them happily.

“Grass next,” he suggests. But Harry shakes his head, “earwax.” They both pull a face, then laugh at each other’s expressions.

  
After Slughorn’s party, all four of them sit in Severus’ sitting room. Severus has taken to having pumpkin juice for Ron and green tea for Hermione in his kitchen, and Harry loves him for it. Hermione and Ron are sitting on opposite ends of the sofa with stretches of parchment laid out between them, and Severus and Harry are sitting in their chairs, when Ron drops his pumpkin juice.

“Bloody... I’m sorry,” he says as Hermione cleans everything up with a quick flick of her wand.

“No sugar coating now, Mr. Weasley,” Severus says in a tone so cold that it makes Harry shiver.

“I’m very sorry Snape,” Ron says, “but it seems Malfoy has been ordered to kill Dumbledore.”

Severus sinks down into the chair while Hermione starts talking a mile a minute about how they can avoid it, but Severus holds up his hand and she snaps her mouth shut.

“What else?”

“Well we know that he was planning on using the necklace, but that didn’t work. He’ll try again, of course, probably with whatever he was asking about over summer.”

“What will we do?” Hermione whispers.

“Nothing, not to stop it,” Ron sighs, “Malfoy will be punished if he doesn’t complete his task, and Snape will be dead if he doesn’t help.”

“ _All the proof we ever needed that none of them trust you, no one told you anything about this_ ,” Harry hisses, and Severus nods.

“Albus is going to order me to do it for Draco, he knows about the Unbreakable Vow, and might have deduced by now what the task is. He’ll want to protect Draco’s soul.”

Ron looks at him, pale around the nose. “You have to promise you will, Dumbledore will try to use his death for the maximum gain for our side. He will want you to be headmaster. It’s a good plan, a way to have You-Know-Who think he has the school and protect the students at the same time.”

They all nod, then Severus says: “What can we do to make sure that we get everything we need from Dumbledore before he dies?”

  
Harry spends that night on the sofa in Severus quarters, wanting to be as close as possible before he has to leave to the Burrow for Christmas. The nightmare is nothing he isn’t used to, his parents and Cedric dying, Sirius being tortured, everyone telling him everything is his fault. What’s new is being woken up by soft hands calming him, stroking his forehead, fixing the duvet back into place. He’s wide awake and panting, but Severus sits on the floor next to him and talks of flowers, of snakes, of travelling to strange places for collecting potions ingredients. Harry apologizes for waking him up, for making him sit on the cold floor, for the time, but he gets shushed gently. Faster than ever before after a nightmare, he falls asleep again, dreaming of the whisper of dark silk on his cheek as Severus cards cool fingers through his sweaty hair.

The next morning, they have breakfast together in Severus’ kitchen at the tiny table. Daphne brings breakfast, full English for Harry and toast with black coffee for Severus. Harry knows by now that Severus rarely eats before noon if he can help it.

“How did you come to only ever call for Daphne?” Harry asks, trying desperately not to think of silk pyjamas that looked black in the low light of the dying fire.

“I helped her once, she’s the healer amongst Hogwarts’ house-elves, as you know. But she was sick herself and Poppy was at a loss. You need far smaller doses of Potions for house-elves than even their size would suggest, it’s mostly a lot of calculations, and Poppy has no experience with any of that." Severus hands Harry the teapot when he reaches for it. "I got to know and like her, and she respects my wishes regarding cleaning and eating.”

“She’s wonderful,” Harry smiles, “I understand sticking with her. I’ve seen a house-elf drunk on Butterbeer before, so it makes sense everything else would affect them more too.”

Severus hums and takes another long swallow of coffee. He chews the toast like it tastes of ashes.

“What will we do about our Christmas cooking tradition?” Harry asks, trying to eat slow and proper.

“Does it matter very much if it’s on the 26th?”

“Well, I’d rather it be then, but if you have a good idea about another time?”

“I was thinking about the awful insinuations you made in your end-of-term paper about me being a vampire,” Severus says thoughtfully, “and am thinking about writing you a letter to inform you of the fact that you’ll be serving detention with me during the last three days of the holiday.”

“What will I be doing?” Harry grins.

“Brewing for the infirmary. Even I cannot deny your skill at Potions.”

Harry laughs, “a fair and just punishment I would say.”

  
On Christmas morning, Harry wakes up to a stack of presents. He’s almost used to it now, still surprised but not so amazed he’s stunned into staring for long moments. He knows which one is from Severus by the plain silver paper, the neatly tucked in corners. ‘The Prince’, by Macchiavelli, and ‘The Elements of Style’, on how to write. He chuckles when he sees the note, written in green ink on a cream square of thick paper. ‘One for politics and one for Scheherazade, Merry Christmas.’

‘You gave me the prince?’ he writes to Severus, then continues unwrapping the other presents on his bed. A few minutes later his pebble vibrates, ‘you’re one to talk’, then ‘thank you for the books’, followed by ‘of course I’ll help you learn Chinese’. He writes back to thank Severus for the books, to ask him if he’s planning on reading the Chinese or English version of ‘Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio’ first, and to tell him Merry Christmas.

At breakfast all the Weasleys are wearing their jumpers and Harry feels proud and welcomed to sit between them. Harry had warned Ron about the upcoming detention, so they’d both acted appropriately shocked and outraged when Severus’ letter had appeared.

  
Two days after Christmas, Harry’s pebble vibrates, and Harry squeezes it knowing what it’ll say. ‘He told me,’ Severus writes, ‘I made a Vow to do it,’ and lastly, ‘he promised he’d look into anti-unforgivable wards’. Harry writes back to say he’s sorry, and to ask if Severus got Dumbledore to promise he’d leave behind some proof that he’d asked Severus to kill him, that he’d made him make an Unbreakable Vow. ‘He promised,’ Severus writes back. ‘You’re to live, Severus,’ Harry writes, ‘to have a life, to be happy, when all this is over’.

  
Back in the castle on Friday morning, after having been dropped off by Mr. Weasley on his way to work, Harry rushes down to the dungeons and runs straight into Severus’ sitting room, where he gets wrapped in a warm hug.

“Hi,” he pants against Severus’ robes.

“Hello,” Severus laughs, “would you care for some hot chocolate?”

“I’d like to pummel Dumbledore.”

Severus’ face falls. “Can I tell you something that hurts to say?”

“Of course,” Harry frowns, “obviously.”

“Minerva hates being deputy headmistress. She doesn’t mind the work, but never wants to be headmistress, not interim, not anything. Loves teaching too much.”

Harry steps closer.

“I’ve always wanted to be headmaster someday, I’ve pages filled with notes on what I’d do differently, how I’d help students, how I’d deal with the Ministry. I asked to be deputy exactly once and was told in no uncertain terms that politics wouldn’t allow it. Always thought I’d be able to work as a teacher after the war, let people forget what I had to be, work on earning the position.”

“Cruel but charming.”

“Charming but cruel,” Severus agrees. They’re quiet for a while, leaning against each other as they stare out the window.

“We’ll make it happen,” Harry says fiercely, suddenly. “This will be how you live.”

  
They spend the next three days brewing by day, both healing potions for Madame Pomfrey and N.E.W.T. level potions for practice, and cooking by night. They work their way through almost all of one of the cookbooks they’d found in Harry’s vault. On Saturday they go to Edinburgh to do grocery shopping together and it is so normal Harry could cry. They nose around stalls and record stores and blend right in. They come home laden with bags of food, and Harry has a stack of new CDs for his Discman.

“Severus,” Harry asks, as they settle down on the sofa together with tea and cake they’d baked together.

“What is it?” Severus holds out his plate so Harry can steal the last bit off of it. Harry spears it on the end of his fork and grins at Severus in thanks.

“I’ve been thinking about a spell but I’m not sure it’s even possible.”

“What were you thinking about?” Severus puts away their things and Harry turns, sitting cross-legged to face him properly.

“Well. If I wanted a spell that makes my face look impassive, what would you use?”

“What would you need it for?” Severus’ hand twitches and Harry reaches out to grab it.

“When I read, I – make faces. You’ve pointed it out before too, but when I read your potions book I just end up grinning and frowning and... people are commenting on it.”

“Laughing at you,” Severus always has trouble controlling his face when he says things like that. His mouth twitches unhappily now too.

“Yes.”

Severus nods slowly. “If you want to – Talk about it. We – ”

“I’d let you know,” Harry promises, squeezing his hand.

“Alright. If you want to hide your face without making it invisible, you should work on the same principle as Muffliato. Do you remember how I designed it?”

“I do,” Harry nods, taking out some parchment and a quill to take notes, “it works as a mirror, a reflection of what people think they should be hearing. Because people don’t pay attention.”

“White noise,” Severus confirms. “Because silence is more obvious. For you face however, you’ll need a mask.”

“I thought of just hiding my expression,” Harry blushes a little, he’d tried to hide his expression too, “but I feel like I enjoy it less when I pretend not to enjoy it.”

Severus smiles at him sweetly, “that’s exactly how it works, the basic principle of Occlumency. If you pretend hard enough that there is an unsurmountable wall in your mind, it becomes so. Magic wants to you what you want it to do.”

  
On Sunday Harry goes back to the dorm. He’s been sleeping on the sofa in Severus’ quarters, neatly avoiding questions by the other professors about why he's back by not leaving ever. At night, Severus passes him what he’s starting to suspect is Severus’ own duvet. Unless the smell of cardamom and cinnamon somehow got duplicated with the covers. He's never slept as well.

He finds Ron and Hermione in the common room and gets dragged off with some excuse about the library by Hermione. She asks him for somewhere to talk privately, and Harry takes her through dusty corridors and sleepy portraits to one of the abandoned towers. Hermione wonders out loud what maximum capacity for Hogwarts would look like considering how much of Hogwarts isn’t being used.

“I hope we’ll find out after we get rid of Voldemort,” Harry sighs, helping Hermione up the steps to the beams. There’s a skylight here, and they stretch out under it.

“I don’t think it’s just children being home schooled Harry,” Hermione turns to tell him, “he slaughtered people of child-bearing age in the 70s, their children would be here now.”

“It would be interesting to look at population size before and after Voldemort,” Harry tells her. “Now what did you want to talk about?”

“Professor Snape. I don’t mean to pry Harry, but please do tell me you’re aware of how vulnerable you both are here.”

“What makes you say that?” Harry keeps his tone light.

“Don’t do that,” she frowns, “I’ve suspected it for a while and I know you’ve noticed. That necklace is a ring, Harry, the book on flowers, the Discman, the potion you take when you wake everyone in the Burrow screaming. Then this summer, the belt.”

Harry hums, “he gave me snakes, so I would have a place to speak Parseltongue, he filled the garden at the Dursleys with flowers, wrote me a song, invented a potion for me, and you know about Godric’s Hollow already. He makes sure I have enough to eat, that I can do my homework.”

“You can’t lie to him, you know where he is at all times, and you’ve never once done that thing you do when someone touches you with him.”

“What thing?”

“Where you duck, Harry, like it hurts. You can stand Ron and me, but even Mrs. Weasley makes you flinch.”

Harry hums again. “This is top secret ‘Mione, it would be very dangerous to both of us and the fight against Voldemort if anyone knew.”

“I don’t know how top secret is different from regular secret,” Hermione looks at him.

“Me either,” Harry grins, “and I know you wouldn't tell regardless. I don't want anyone to know yet. Not even Ron, not until he figures it out for himself too.”

“That could be a while, bloody emotional range of a teaspoon,” Hermione mutters. “Harry I just want you to tell me that you understand that between your age difference, neither of you having much of a family, the secrecy, your co-dependence, all of it, this could be really good or really bad.”

“I know,” Harry whispers, “I know I don’t have anyone to ask about relationships, or even any examples to look toward. We’ll have to figure it out between the two of us and things are about to get much worse, because all of our allies will be forced to hate him.”

“Anytime you want to talk about it, I’ll be here,” Hermione tells him, squeezing his hand. Then curfew rings, and both of them get up to walk back to the common room. Hermione tells him about Ron, whispers about how empty she feels when she looks at him and _wants_ and knows he doesn’t feel the same. Harry holds her hand the whole time.

When they’re near the Gryffindor tower, Harry can feel Severus pass by Disillusioned. He turns back and looks at where Severus is standing.

“She knows,” he whispers, which makes Hermione jump in surprise. “I’ll write to you, I promise we’re going straight back to the common room now.”

In the common room, Harry hands out some of the obscene amount of pastries and cakes and biscuits Severus and he had baked over the weekend. Everyone coos and chatters over how nice it is to have a house-elf friend like Dobby, and Harry agrees with them happily.

  
For Severus’ birthday, Harry cooks him dal, makes naan from scratch, and gives him a book about a spy called Kim and a set of brushes with special ink.

“To practice your characters,” he grins. “The ones you keep saying are ugly.”

“Brat,” Severus scolds, but he’s smiling like he won the lottery.

  
After Dumbledore’s next puzzle piece, they meet in Severus’ sitting room. Severus is pissed that Harry’s been tasked with doing something Dumbledore managed to botch, but Ron says it makes sense.

“He’s clearly training Harry for something, this is supposed to teach him something.”

“I could use the Felix Felicis for it,” Harry suggests, but Severus shakes his head.

“Buy us some time, wait until Dumbledore asks you again, though do ask about it in class so you can pretend to be working on it.”

“Get friendly with Slughorn,” Ron advises, “ask him for lab time after dinner because you want to work on your slicing or something.”

  
Over the next few weeks, Harry spends an evening or two a week in the Potions classroom brewing while chatting with Slughorn. Severus suggested he try and find ways to shorten the brewing time of things required for N.E.W.T. and Harry enthusiastically runs with the idea. He has managed to cut down the brewing time of three Potions from what the book suggests by reading up on stirring and ingredient preparation techniques. Slughorn is very impressed and chatty, and Severus is enjoying dropping hints about what Potion to go for next, what book to read, what technique to try.

  
After the first Apparition lesson, Harry overhears Malfoy saying he’s been using Crabbe as a look out, so Ron and he start taking turns tracking Malfoy on the Marauders Map. Harry gets a little tired of the map insulting Severus so he writes to Sirius and Remus to ask him about the enchantments they used to make it.

  
Ron ends up in the hospital wing from the mead, then a week later Harry joins him there. Harry wakes up after the Quidditch match to the sound of Severus sleeping in what Harry has come to think of as his chair. They whisper back and forth quietly until Severus is convinced Harry is alright, and Severus promises to talk to McGonagall to find out how McLaggen will be punished. Harry asks Dobby to tail Malfoy, and to ask around the other house-elves to find if one of them would want to help.

  
On the day that Harry and Ron are allowed to leave the hospital wing, Dumbledore shows him the memory of Hepzibah Smith, they discuss it that night and come to the bone-chilling conclusion that Voldemort must have used the cup of Hufflepuff to make another dark object.

“It makes sense,” Ron says, “we had Ravenclaw and Slytherin already, of course he’d want something from every founder. What exists of Gryffindor?”

“Nothing,” Severus promises, “only the hat and the sword, and we know those are fine because Harry would have felt it if they weren’t.”

“That gives us the diadem, the locket, the cup and the diary,” Ron counts.

“And the ring,” Hermione adds. “Five items, that makes no sense, five is a terrible number for magic, it’s much too unstable.”

“Voldemort isn’t exactly the kind of person to appreciate a six either,” Harry says, which makes Ron look confused and Hermione and Severus laugh.

“Safety, associated with home,” Hermione explains.

“Probably seven then, seven dark objects to somehow stay alive, even I know that seven is powerful,” Ron muses, writing down the list of known objects and two question marks.

“Have you made any progress with your research on what a Horcrux could be?” Harry asks Severus, they assumed that if Voldemort couldn’t find anything on the topic at Hogwarts, no one could.

“I have,” Severus says, “I’ve been invited to spend Easter at the Malfoy manor, and have taken the opportunity to ask for a week’s holiday. I’ll travel to Grimmauld place to search their library too.”

“Perfect.”

  
A week later, Harry discovers Malfoy has been using the Room of Requirement. He spends a whole night talking to Hermione and Ron about how they could find out what he’s doing in there. It’s a mark of how tired they all are that when Harry writes to Severus that night, Severus tells him to take some Happy Dreams and go straight to sleep. ‘But what will we do?’ Harry writes back. ‘Tell Dobby to make sure the door doesn’t fall closed and then fetch you the next time Draco goes to the room,’ Severus writes back. ‘What spell would do that?’ He asks in frustration. ‘Any piece of wood will do, Harry, now sleep.’

  
“Ghosts are transparent?” Severus drawls as Harry walks into his quarters.

“I’m sorry,” Harry sits down in his chair, kicks off his shoes. Stretches out his legs so his toes touch Severus’ knee. “You’ll have to admit it was funny.”

Severus looks up from his book, eyebrow arched in a clear _no_ , and Harry grabs his homework from his bag, shuffling the chair closer so he can put his feet on Severus’ lap properly. Absentmindedly, Severus starts rubbing the sole of a socked foot.

“I also want to write the essay about Dementors on yelling and slapping them with broomsticks, can I?”

Severus looks at him again. “You can, the question is of course whether you should.”

“Alright,” Harry sighs. He would, but he really wants to know the fastest way from the Gryffindor common room to the Defence classroom and Severus said he’d need at least three O’s for the whole way.

They work quietly for a while until Harry gets up to make them something to drink. When he comes back with the tray, he feels Severus sneak attack him with a quiet Legilimens. He pushes him out fairly easily.

“Hate it when you do that,” he picks the tray up from where it has floated down to the ground. He’s gotten better at not breaking anything while doing Occlumency.

“You’ve got to keep practicing. Dumbledore will try to use the viewing of memories as an opportunity to catch you off guard.”

“I can keep Dumbledore out just fine. I just hate that you always dig for those memories.”

Severus shrugs, “it’s pretty much the only ones you really don’t want me to see. If you didn’t just let me hang out in your mind when I go for boring things I wouldn’t need to resort to figuring out what creative name-calling the Weasleys have gotten up to.”

“The one about you running from shampoo was hardly creative.”

Severus hums and accepts a mug of hot chocolate. “I also like to respect your privacy, if it’s Weasleys talking about me at least I’m not watching you kiss Miss Chang.”

“First of all,” Harry sinks down into his chair, wrapping his hands around his mug, “she kisses me.”

“And?”

“I’ve little privacy when it comes to you,” Harry shrugs. It was the wrong thing to say, Severus’ back stiffens and his eyes blaze.

“Do not - It is bad enough...” He breathes heavily, starts again. “It is bad enough that you’re entirely dependent on me, that I lean on you despite you being a child. The more you have a life that I have nothing to do with, the better.”

Harry tilts his head, feeling sad and very much wanting to crawl into Severus’ lap. “I want you to be a part of my life.”

“And I want you to have a life,” Severus sighs, “hobbies, a career, friendships with people that aren’t me.”

Harry picks his feet up and puts them back into Severus’ lap. “You should have all of those things too. I understand that I should be me before I’m yours, but you’ve been mine before you a lot these past years.”

Severus starts kneading his feet again. “But I had years before that I got to be me in, when I wasn’t anyone’s at all. You know how that worked out.”

Wrinkling his nose at Severus, Harry pokes his chest with stretched out toes. “Don’t put that on me not being there. That’s on your parents not being there, your teachers not being there. You also managed to get an education and a career.”

“You’re right,” Severus says simply, blushing and hiding his face. He pushes the chair away from Harry’s a little but doesn’t push his feet off of his lap.  



	12. Year 6 - Dumbledore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Harry tilts his head, feeling sad and very much wanting to crawl into Severus’ lap. “I want you to be a part of my life.”
> 
> “And I want you to have a life,” Severus sighs, “hobbies, a career, friendships with people that aren’t me.”
> 
> Harry picks his feet up and puts them back into Severus’ lap. “You should have all of those things too. I understand that I should be me before I’m yours, but you’ve been mine before you a lot these past years.”
> 
> Severus starts kneading his feet again. “But I had years before that I got to be me in, when I wasn’t anyone’s at all. You know how that worked out.”
> 
> Wrinkling his nose at Severus, Harry pokes his chest with stretched out toes. “Don’t put that on me not being there. That’s on your parents not being there, your teachers not being there. You also managed to get an education and a career.”
> 
> “You’re right,” Severus says simply, blushing and hiding his face. He pushes the chair away from Harry’s a little but doesn’t push his feet off of his lap."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of year 6!

When Severus tells them both the Malfoy library and the Black library only say Horcruxes are terribly dark magic that allows the one who makes one to live until the item is destroyed, they decide that it’s time for Harry to stop stalling. He spends an evening brewing with Slughorn talking about improvements to Daisyroot Draught and what ingredients make it so that it doesn’t need fermentation to become alcoholic. When he has six versions, he asks Slughorn to help him try them out, and Slughorn gets just the right kind of drunk.

“Horace, friend, tell me about the memory,” he says when Slughorn starts toasting to members of the Slugclub that died before their time. It takes no urging after that to get the memory deposited into a vial, and the next day he meets with Dumbledore.

Most of it isn’t new information, but the thing about splitting the soul and Nagini as a Horcrux are. Harry asks Severus if he can come over, but Severus tells him ‘meeting with Dumbledore after dinner,’ Ron is busy breaking up, so Harry just whispers to Hermione until his pebble starts vibrating in his pocket. ‘Harry,’ it says, so Harry runs upstairs, grabs his cloak, and jumps out the window.

Severus is sitting too close to the fire, clutching a bottle with a big red label. “Harry,” he whispers, taking a sip. Harry takes the bottle, caps it, and puts it back in the kitchen. He goes to Severus’ bedroom to get his duvet, tries not to notice how warm and tidy and pleasant the room is, then joins Severus in front of the fire. He wraps the duvet around their backs and leans his head on Severus’ shoulder.

“I have to show you something,” Severus whispers.

“Alright,” Harry says, turning to look. He sees the meeting Severus just had with Dumbledore, hears Dumbledore explain that Harry will have to die. _Like a pig for slaughter_. Sees Severus’ Patronus.

They sit and stare at the fire until it dies. Harry wakes up in the dark, his head in Severus’ lap, wrapped up in the duvet and a woollen throw. Severus is still staring at where the fire burned to ashes ages ago, so Harry stands up stiffly, stretches, and helps Severus to bed.

“Can I stay?” He whispers after pushing Severus down onto the mattress and covering him with the duvet. Severus nods and wraps himself around Harry when he slides in. They’re both too worn out to change into pyjamas, so they just fall asleep like that.

The sun wakes them just past seven in the morning. They both get up without saying anything and Harry disappears to get dressed for the day. Harry, Ron, and Hermione spend all of Charms hissing at each other, and in the evening, they meet in Severus’ sitting room.

“The Dark Lord thinks he’s untouchable because he has only a seventh of a soul?” Severus asks when Harry finishes telling him about his meeting with Dumbledore. Ron and Hermione listened and took notes, but now Hermione speaks up.

“We don’t know that,” she says, “it’s possible he splits his soul in half every time he creates a Horcrux, so that he’s currently at less than a percent of a whole soul.”

“No wonder he’s nuts,” Ron huffs.

“If that is true, and if Harry truly is a Horcrux, then Harry has twice as much of Voldemort’s soul as he does himself.”

“Do you think you could use Occlumency to find that piece?” Ron asks Harry. “Maybe you could try to find out if it’s easy to tell apart from yourself?”

“I can try,” Harry says, “I’ve gotten pretty good at knowing when I’m seeing through his eyes or feeling his emotions, even if it took time.”

“Would that help you get it out?” Hermione asks, looking at Severus even if the question was to Harry.

“Dumbledore seems to think that the only way for Harry to stop being a Horcrux is to be killed by the Dark Lord.”

“Well obviously,” Ron says, making everyone stare at him. “I mean,” he blushes, “it makes sense that aiming Avada Kedavra at your Horcrux would allow you to destroy it. It’s your life after all. The only other way we know of to destroy one is using a Basilisk fang and we already tried that on Harry.”

“Alright, then what of his plan to make Severus wait until the very last moment to tell Harry?” Hermione challenges him.

“Well think of it from Dumbledore’s perspective. He has two main objectives in life and knows he won’t live to see either fulfilled. Firstly, he wants You-Know-Who dead, and secondly, he wants as many people as possible to live. That means killing him as soon as possible. And really, those are our objectives too.”

“Where does Harry come in?” Hermione asks, furiously penning things down.

“Dumbledore knows of one way to destroy a Horcrux that doesn’t require a Basilisk, and he knows Harry has to die for Voldemort to die. Use all your resources, oldest rule there is.”

“I have to die,” Harry says, holding up a finger, “Nagini has to die, the other Horcruxes have to be destroyed. He knows I’ll do all that happily because he knows me.”

“And he knows you can, because he knows you,” Hermione adds.

“Nagini has to die right before you do, or after. Voldemort won’t know he’s lost a Horcrux until she dies, and we know he has no issues making more,” Ron says.

They’re all quiet, then Ron continues: “Or so Dumbledore thinks. He can’t risk you knowing you’ll have to die, because you’ll do what we’re going to do now, you’ll try and find a way to survive the Horcrux in you dying. He can’t risk whatever we come up with not working.”

“What if Avada Kedavra kills only the Horcrux?” Harry asks.

“There is a fair chance it will, if I’m understanding what is involved correctly,” Severus says, “but I’ve no desire to risk it until we run out of other options.”

“Worst case scenario, I die some other way and the Horcrux takes over my body. You’re to chop my head off with Gryffindor’s sword if that happens.”

“If we ever worry that happened we’ll ask you something no one but you knows, like how to say something in Parseltongue,” Ron jokes. It falls a little flat, but the sentiment is appreciated.

“For now we keep looking for books on Horcruxes, try to find the cup, and prepare for next year,” Hermione decides.

“N.E.W.T.s or all hell breaking loose?” Harry asks her.

“Both,” she says, the _obviously_ strongly implied.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the Golden Trio,” Severus smiles.

“Not so _Golden Trio_ now,” Hermione smiles back at him.

“Well the _Golden_ was always meant to be sarcastic,” Severus explains, frowning a little.

“I meant the trio bit Severus,” she grins, and Severus blushes. He runs off straight to the kitchen, and Harry follows him.

“ _It seems less bleak today, doesn’t it,”_ Harry hisses at Severus while Severus fusses with tea and hot chocolate and the pumpkin juice for Ron. Severus nods.

“ _You’re to live too, Harry_ ,” Severus hisses back, before they leave the kitchen with the tray.

“I know.”

 

Harry gets called over by Dobby one night, and sneaks into the Room in his cloak. It doesn’t take them long to figure out what Draco could be wanting a Vanishing Cabinet for, but it’s worrisome that Severus wasn’t informed. If Severus isn’t trusted by Dumbledore or Voldemort, or apparently even Draco, why is he spying?

 

“Remember when we talked about being me and yours?” Harry asks as they sit on the carpet together, eating pie they’d baked and working on a plan for the HD for the last bit of term.

“It wasn’t exactly a long time ago.”

“Funny. Anyway, I was thinking about it.”

Severus looks at him, eyes a little squinted. “What were you thinking?”

“What was it like to meet me for the first time?”

It’s quiet for a while. Severus stacks up the parchment they’d been working on and lies down on his back, stares at the ceiling. It’s smooth, carved from rock, Harry knows it well.

“If you don’t want to – ” Harry starts, but Severus interrupts him.

“No, just, thinking about what to say.” Severus takes a deep breath. “It was a relief mostly, I think. I’d been worried that it was just me, that there wasn’t to be anyone at all, that this was just how it’d be.”

“This?”

“Unable to connect with anyone, alone, untouchable.”

“And then?”

“Most people that –  ” Severus tries again, voice shaking a little. “Most people describe feeling a strong pull to their – To the other person. I never really had that, and I thought as a young teenager that it’d come, but by the time I was 22 I’d mostly given up on it. So I just, hoped we’d bump into each other. That we’d recognize each other. I started having dreams almost the day you were born, of Lily mostly. Your father. Didn’t recognize them for what they were.”

Harry lies down next to him on the carpet, intertwines their fingers. “And then you walked into that pub.”

“You were in a stroller, I was only looking at your mother. How tired she looked, how pale. We sat down, ordered, chatted. About potions mostly. Then you started fussing and she just dumped you into my arms.”

“She knew about you right? She must’ve, if Hermione figured it out.”

Severus nods, Harry can feel it against his head. _Must be looking at me_ , he thinks. Squeezes Severus’ hand briefly.

“Maybe she knew when I knew. It’s like the whole world went quiet, you just calmed right down. Smiled at me, all gums and drool and _eyes_.”

“If you smiled back at me then the way you smile at me now there’s no way she didn’t figure it out. You don’t look at anyone like that.”

Severus ducks his head, buries his nose into Harry’s neck. _Hiding his face,_ Harry thinks fondly. He turns onto his side, Severus hides against his throat and Harry pets his lovely hair, his dear face.

“Do you still get dreams? Will I ever get them? When will they start?”

“Very rarely,” Severus has the hint of irritation in his voice that’s always there when Harry fires questions at him. “And I have no idea. Their purpose is supposedly for us to find each other.”

Harry thinks on that, he kind of wants the dreams.

“If you’re worried that I see too much...” Severus sounds worried. “They’re mostly mundane, flashes of you walking around the castle or flying, before you came to Hogwarts there were some of the cupboard and your school.”

“Oh no. I’m not bothered about that at all.” He feels Severus nod. “The first time I remember looking at you, my scar hurt.”

Severus chuckles. “I hope that was Quirrell.”

“I feel relieved when I touch you, every time.”

A wet sigh against his throat.

 

When Severus catches Harry and Malfoy hexing each other in the bathroom, no one has been hit with anything worse than a jelly legs curse. Harry is too good at blocking spells from two years of practice with Hogwarts’ Defenders, and he’s not stupid enough to use a spell that destroyed a dummy in the most violent way he’s ever seen on a person. He still gets detention for the rest of the year, but he’s rather happy about it.

He doesn’t spend the rest of the year in denial about what he _almost_ did which makes talking to Myrtle and figuring out Malfoy’s plans much easier. It helps that Severus has always believed him when he said Malfoy was up to something.

 

Ginny kisses Harry after Gryffindor wins the Quidditch match.

Because of the detention, Harry missed the match. Not that he cared all that much. Harry finally leaves Severus’ quarters after midnight. They’d sat on the floor together, away from the carpet, and tried to use the ink Harry got Severus for his birthday to draw flowers. Severus manages to figure out how to hold the brush first, but Harry has always been good at drawing flowers.

“Ginny,” Harry says gently, holding her by her upper arms as he steps back, “could we talk about this?”

She nods, but the look on her face says she’ll not be put off by his ‘let’s be friends instead’ speech. In a corner of the common room, where Ron keeps shooting him looks, he tells Ginny he’s proud of her for winning, but he’d rather not kiss again.

“Oh, come on, Harry,” she says, “is it Ron? I can handle Ron. It’s just a bit of snogging I’m after.”

Harry has to work not to roll his eyes and leans closer instead. He tries to look and sound worried about her reaction as he whispers in her ear: “I think I might not like witches at all.”

Ginny hums knowingly, “since we’re whispering I’ll assume it’s a secret?”

“Well,” Harry says, “I haven’t told anyone and I’d rather not until I’m sure. Especially Ron, you know how he likes being surprised.”

She snorts and elbows him in his side, “who’ve you got your eye on then?”

Harry thinks of Severus and feels his cheeks heat. Who could he fake being obsessed with? “Malfoy,” he whimpers, yuck. She takes it as embarrassment.

“Awful isn’t it? How hot he is?” Ginny sighs.

“So awful!” Harry whines, “maybe you can convince him to have a snog and never talk at all? After Pansy I think it’s quite obvious he likes witches.”

Ginny laughs at that, pats Harry on the shoulder, and joins the party again.

“Kissing my sister?” Ron hisses when Harry walks over.

“Telling your sister I’m gay so she’ll stop kissing me,” Harry tells him honestly. It makes Ron laugh, and the rest of the evening ends up being rather fun.

 

Severus attacks him with a _Legilimens_ the second he walks into the sitting room. Harry is tired and angry so he focuses absolutely all of his attention not on flying but on how Severus has a tiny birthmark just underneath his left collarbone and the desperate and overwhelming feeling of wanting to lick it.

“What was that?” Severus gasps from the floor. He’s on his knees, Harry feels absolutely fine for once. Normally Occlumency leaves him tired and weak.

“I blocked you by something I could easily focus all of my attention on.”

“I have a _mole_ that takes up the whole of your attention when you let it?”

Harry just tilts his head in response. “I think I’ll do this to Voldemort next time, just love hard enough to keep him out.”

“Maybe don’t use me though, the entire purpose of the exercise is for him _not_ to know about me.”

Harry pretends to be shocked and gasps. “You mean Lord Voldemort would recognize your birthmarks on sight?”

“Merlin no,” Severus shudders, “do you know how old he is?”

“More than twice your age?” Harry grins, winking at Severus as he touches a finger to where he knows the birthmark to be, right under layers of robes.

“That is close enough to things were not talking about, I should think,” Severus huffs, stalking out of the room with his robes billowing and flapping to go change into leggings and an enormous pullover. Harry has to work to get the stupid grin off of his face.

 

“Remember what you said about using all your resources?” Harry asks Ron one night when they’re studying for the end of term exams in the library.

Rons hums, “why?”

“I don’t think Dumbledore is going to find a way to avoid people using Unforgivables on school grounds.”

“That’s assuming he’s even trying,” Hermione chimes in.

“Indeed. What if we ask the house-elves? They can be invisible and could zap people for hurting students.”

Ron gets a strange glint in his eyes. “You’re not thinking big enough, Harry. What would the twins do?”

“Create mayhem?” Harry suggests.

“Make grown adults cry?” Hermione offers.

“Yes. Also spread the rumour that the castle itself doesn’t like people hurting students. Everyone knows Hogwarts has some sentience, people will assume it absorbed Dumbledore or something and just accept it. House-elves can Apparate, even in here, so we can have everyone that hurts a student get Apparated off grounds.”

“They’ll think Hogwarts ousted them, and will stop trying,” Hermione grins.

“I’ll ask Severus about how to approach the house-elves,” Harry suggests, fishing for his stone. He scribbles a message and laughs when it comes back with a simple ‘I’m on it, great plan’.

 

When exams are over, Harry gets a note from Dumbledore. Of course, it’s on the same day that Dobby tells him Draco is happy about something being finished. He tells Severus, Ron, and Hermione he’s going and gives them the Felix Felicis to share.

“We’re going to need everything to go exactly to plan. When Malfoy starts sending people out of the Room we need to make sure no students get hurt, when Dumbledore and I come back, hopefully with the cup, we need to be prepared for Malfoy to try and kill him. Severus, you need to be prepared to step in. We need to do everything we can to make sure no one realizes we know what’s going on.”

They all nod grimly, and Harry gives them each a tight hug, before rushing off to Dumbledore’s office. They go to the cave, Dumbledore feeds the door his blood, they make it across the lake, but when Harry spots the locket, his blood runs cold.

“Professor Dumbledore,” he whispers, “I destroyed this one already.”

“Harry, my boy, you promised to do as I asked, you have to keep feeding me the potion.”

“No, no, you don’t understand, this isn’t a Horcrux. I can sense Horcruxes, I destroyed the real locket already, it was at Grimmauld place, I stabbed it with a Basilisk tooth,” he’s panicking now, because Dumbledore is picking up the bowl and starting to drink with it.

“Promise me you’ll keep making me drink, Harry, it’s very important that you do,” Dumbledore says, taking long gulps of the potion. Harry’s throat is tight.

“ _Open_ ,” Harry hisses at the locket in despair, “see! Nothing happens, it’s not the real locket, the real locket was destroyed!”

 

Dumbledore drinks down a second bowl of the potion, “even if it’s not real, my boy, we’ll need to get to it to know what happened.”

“Can’t we just ask Kreacher? He might know how it ended up at Grimmauld Place,” Harry sobs, trying to take the bowl from Dumbledore. “Please don’t do this, please don’t drink a potion you don’t know.”

“Draught of Despair, Harry,” Dumbledore says, “Severus has the antidote in his office, now promise that when I cannot keep going, you will force me to drink until we have the locket.”

“I promise,” Harry cries. Draught of Despair has no antidote, it takes weeks to leave your body and will wreak havoc on Dumbledore’s. He’s too old, his hand has made him weak.

“Please tell me where the other Horcruxes are,” he begs while Dumbledore keeps filling and draining the bowl, “where is the cup?”

“Six Horcruxes,” Dumbledore chokes out, sinking to his knees. “Seven pieces of soul, six Horcruxes. Six is not a good number. Three is.”

He motions to Harry to fill up the bowl, “three in relevant places to his life. The cave he terrorized children in with magic, the house the last of his family lived in, maybe Hogwarts. The other three?”

He grabs the full bowl Harry is holding and drinks it down. “The other three?” Harry urges, and Dumbledore starts to whimper.

“One with Lucius, the diary.” He croaks, “perhaps loyal servants. Lucius, Bellatrix. Your death for sixth, maybe with Severus? Maybe Antonin, or...”

Harry gives him the next bowl. Dumbledore tries to turn his head, but Harry helps him drink it down anyway. They’re so close now. “Where would Bellatrix hide a Horcrux?”

“Safest place in the world, Harry,” Dumbledore whispers, then refuses to say anything else except for _please_ , _no more_ , _just some water_.

“Gringotts,” Harry bites out, forcing the last bit of potion on Dumbledore. He holds Dumbledore as he opens the locket, takes the note out without looking, and stuffs it in the pouch on his belt. He clicks the locket shut again, feeling that it isn’t just not a Horcrux, it’s a cheap copy of the locket made by someone that’s never seen the real one. He tosses it into the basin, which immediately refills itself. Dumbledore starts crawling towards the lake, begging for water. Harry picks up Dumbledore’s wand, trying to create water, but the bowl won’t hold it. He remembers his Quidditch flask and summons it from his pouch. Dumbledore drinks and drinks and drinks, and Harry pushes them both back into the boat, through the water, out the cave. When they’re outside, he takes the flask from Dumbledore who starts throwing up waves of water and still begs for more in between heaving. Holding tight, he Apparates them both back to Hogsmeade.

The Dark Mark is above the Astronomy tower, Dumbledore and Harry fly there, Dumbledore immobilizes Harry, who briefly hates himself for giving Dumbledore his wand back before he remembers Dumbledore doesn’t need a wand for first-year spells.

Harry watches with silent tears coming down his face as Severus faces Dumbledore, he feels Severus’ pain as acutely as he would if it were him holding the wand. Severus’ fingers tighten over hawthorn ridges and edges, and the words come without outward hesitation. Severus mouths ‘chase me’ as he passes, and Harry does, shooting flashes of colour in Severus’ direction and screaming nonsense at Malfoy.

 

‘Tell me you’re safe,’ he writes to Severus that night, lying between Ron and Hermione in Ron’s bed. Hermione has enlarged it for them so they’d all fit. He stares at the stone until dawn breaks, when it finally vibrates. ‘Safe’.

‘Thank Merlin,’ he writes back, ‘please let me know where you are and when it’s safe to visit’. Hermione tightens her arms around him in her sleep, then apologizes sleepily when he moves away from her. Finally, he allows himself to close his eyes.

The next days are filled with being talked at, sitting by Bill’s bed, and trying not to go to Severus’ quarters. Too many people telling him they’d never trusted Severus that they never thought he was on their side at all. The day before Dumbledore’s funeral, his pebble vibrates. ‘Spinner’s end, now.’

Harry has never been to Spinner’s end, but he’s seen it so often he knows he can make it. He puts on his cloak and runs all the way across the grounds, through the gate, focusing in his mind on the threadbare rug in front of the fireplace. The second he feels the wards pass over him, he Apparates.

Panting from running, he stands on the same threadbare rug amongst dust and piles of books and furniture that had its best days decades ago. Severus is curled up in a corner of the sofa, so Harry lets his cloak fall off and onto the floor.

“Hi,” he says, but Severus doesn’t look up. “Look at me.”

Severus shakes his head, “never wanted you to see that.”

Harry steps closer, kneels next to Severus on the sofa, grabs his hands. “But I did, and nothing’s changed.”

Severus finally looks up, his eyes are bloodshot, his cheeks hollow. Harry lets himself fall forward onto Severus’ chest, breathing in sweat and dust and fear. “Sodding Albus. So clever, so charming, so nice,” Severus whispers.

“And he never cared how it might make you feel,” Harry tells him. “I can leave you my cloak if you’d like to come to the funeral. I could smuggle you back into your quarters right now.”

Severus huffs against his hair, “perhaps that would be best.”

“Will they look for you here?”

“There was an awful potions accident here about two months ago, Harry. The house is a flaming pile of rubbish now.”

“Just long enough for them to see it? Before you placed it under a Fidelius?”

Severus hums, “I haven’t done that yet, but I’d like for you to be the secret keeper.”

“The perfect safe house,” Harry muses. “Thank you. What did you tell them?”

“That in order to avoid capture by the Ministry and the Order, I would have to move locations every night or so. I promised to respond to summons, and to be available for anything my Lord might wish for as soon as the Ministry falls.”

“Come back with me,” Harry whispers. “Team Gold needs you. Objective one and two need your brain.”

“Tomorrow,” Severus promises, “help me do the Fidelius today, then I’ll need to recover from doing that kind of magic. Pick me up tomorrow.”

“Are you sure? You don’t look like you’ve recovered from the last exhausting spell you did.”

Severus just glares at him. He looks miserable but fierce and determined. It’ll have to be enough.

The Fidelius Charm is complicated and takes tremendous power. Harry wraps them both in his cloak while they stand in front of Spinner’s End and Severus waves his wand chanting the incantation. He feels it the moment the secret settles into his soul. Severus blinks at where it used to be, and Harry turns to him. “Spinner’s End 45 is the safe house to team Gold.”

Severus rolls his eyes, then staggers a little, so Harry helps him inside and onto the sofa. He covers Severus with a throw and goes to fetch him some sweet tea but when he comes back Severus is fast asleep. With a kiss to Severus’ brow he covers him with another tatty throw and Apparates back to Hogwarts.

 

At the funeral, Harry stands to the side with Ron and Hermione. Severus stands behind him, wearing the cloak, and Harry leans on him the whole time. Afterwards, they disappear into Severus’ quarters. Severus doesn’t take off the cloak but goes straight for a shower and a change of clothes. He’d worn formal robes for the ceremony even if no one would know. Silk, and velvet. Deep black with swirling patters, over woollen trousers and a thin cotton shirt with long sleeves. Not his dragonhide boots, but shiny dress shoes. He comes back out with his hair pinned up with the silver comb, wearing comfortable trousers and a thick jumper. Really ugly purple and turquoise house slippers with a shifting pattern of stars and moons. No one needs to ask where he got those, they could’ve spelled ‘Dumbledore’ and it would’ve been less obvious.

“Hot chocolate?” Harry asks, holding out the mug. Severus takes it and curls up in his armchair.

“I was going to ask how you’re holding up, Severus,” Hermione fills up her own mug again from the teapot, then leans back. “But I think it’s clear enough. What do we do now?”

“Harry should go back to the Dursleys,” Severus begins after nodding at Hermione gratefully. “At least until his birthday.”

“Why?” Ron asks.

“Bloodwards, it’s safe there,” Severus says, “and it will give us a chance to make sure the Dark Lord keeps faith in me.”

“He’ll think you’re poorly informed and might decide you unfit for the honour if you don’t know where Harry’s gone, and nowhere else could withstand attack,” Ron nods.

“I’ve Confounded Mundungus to think this is all his plan, but you’ll be moved to the Burrow a few days before your birthday. We need that time to make the Burrow secure.”

“Then what?”

“The Ministry will fall, and you flee. To Grimmauld place or Spinner’s End, both are yours. Just make sure you’re not followed. It’s not a bad habit to Apparate into some remote forest before actually going to the house.”

“That gives us a month to find and destroy the cup before Death Eaters overrun the school and start terrorizing children.”

“Hey,” Harry glares at Ron.

“You-Know-Who is going to place a Death Eater here, for Defence, and maybe he’ll replace more teachers,” Ron tells him, looking more amused than anything at Harry coming to Severus’ defence.

“I’ll try to make sure he doesn’t, but I think we’ll have at least two.”

“Muggle studies,” Hermione says, and Severus nods. “She’s a useless teacher, but I hope she’s smart enough to run.”

“That leaves us nothing to do until Harry turns seventeen, besides thinking on how we might break in to Gringotts and finding a way for Harry to celebrate his birthday with Severus,” Ron says cheerfully. He blushes as everyone turns to stare at him. “What? Tradition is good for morale.”

“If only you thought this much about Potions,” Severus sighs. “I suggest Hermione takes every book she can find on Wizarding law regarding banking and dark objects home to study, and Harry takes everything the library has on Goblin culture.”

“From the library?” Hermione gasps, causing Ron to laugh.

“Yes, but feel free to check my collection first,” Severus says.

“What about Hermione’s parents?” Ron asks, looking pleased that he didn’t get summer homework.

“Send them on a holiday. If money’s the issue I’m sure Harry would be willing to help. They’re dentists, right? You’re clever enough to get them to take a placement with a charity that helps impoverished children somewhere far away from here.”

“What about us? After summer?” Harry asks. “Hermione might not be allowed to come back, and I don’t think I should.”

“But you can live in the castle. There is food here and empty quarters all around. These rooms will be empty, even the Headmaster’s tower was built for Fytherly Undercliffe’s family, who had between four and eight partners at all times, and too many children for anyone to count.”

“Objective one will not be hindered by us living here, and objective two will be greatly helped by it,” Hermione says. “It makes sense.”

“If Mr. Weasley attends classes, he can help you stay on top of work, keep Molly’s blood pressure under control, help the younger children, and pretend that you aren’t on a mission. That you’re just hiding because you’re not safe.”

“Who cares about school work?” Harry asks, “shouldn’t we be focussing on getting rid of Voldemort?”

Severus’ eyes burn as he shoots out of the armchair. “You’re to live, Harry, all of you,” his voice is dangerously low, he points at each of them in turn, “you’re to live, and to have lives and when this is over, you’re to thrive.”

Ron has paled, and Hermione has scooted away from Severus. “All O’s for our N.E.W.T.s, I get it,” Harry says, looking at Severus. “We’ll have the kind of careers that will make people forget we once plotted to kill a murderous tyrant.”

 

Harry spends a month being utterly miserable at the Dursleys, that is, when he isn’t having a lot of fun arguing about James Bond with Dudley. Hermione has been using Hedwig to find out everything there is to know about Wizarding law, which means he only sees her for a couple of minutes every few days. The people at the Ministry are starting to find Hermione scary but from what Harry reads in the letters she sends him, she’ll be able to sit law school exams by the end of summer, no further preparation needed. He reads everything he found in the Hogwarts library on Goblin culture twice and corresponds with professor Flitwick’s mother when Hedwig is available. She’s rather opinionated and extremely eager to provide further readings. From her letters, Harry picks up quite a few swearwords in Gobbledegook.

When the Dursleys go into hiding and Harry’s kitchen gets filled with people that look like him, he understands Severus’ plan. This is the best way to protect Harry even if Voldemort knows what’s happening tonight. That doesn’t mean he likes it.

When George shows up without his ear, Harry asks if he brought the ear back with him. Everyone stares at him. “It’s Dark Magic, Harry,” Molly tells him, “can’t be fixed.”

“Try me,” Harry dares, and he sends Remus back to go find the ear. Remus Apparates out and comes back a few minutes later with a pale ear covered in grass.

 

“Damn trace,” Harry whispers. “Molly, Episkey on the ear please, to clean it.”

“Hermione, do you remember the Vulnera Sanentur chant?”

Hermione nods, and takes her position next to Molly, who holds the ear over the hole in George’s head. She chants until she faints, then Molly takes over requiring no instructions at all.

“Only a scar,” Molly whispers, running her fingers over the ear that is slowly regaining colour. “How do you know this spell?”

“I’ve rather bad luck with attracting trouble Molly,” Harry smiles at her, “Ron and Hermione and I have been practicing healing spells for years. As you’re probably feeling, this one is strong but takes tremendous energy. I’m sorry I can’t do it myself without drawing the attention of the Ministry.”

“Oh Harry,” she cries, gathering him into a tight hug. Harry lets it happen, focusing on breathing in through his nose, out through his mouth.

George looks vaguely disappointed that he won’t be able to make any more jokes about having his ear cut off, but everyone else is so relieved they sink down into the sofas and onto the floor. Then they hear that Moody died.


	13. Year 7 - The Cup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "George looks vaguely disappointed that he won’t be able to make any more jokes about having his ear cut off, but everyone else is so relieved they sink down into the sofas and onto the floor. Then they hear that Moody died."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in year 7! As you can see from the expected chapter count, there's quite a bit to go. Attentive people will notice I've changed the rating of this fic to Explicit. Harry is an adult now, so the real Severus/Harry will be starting soon. Feel free to contact me if you'd rather have a slash-free version, I'll email it to you.   
> Thank you all so much for reading, for giving me kudos, for commenting. It means the world.  
> Special thanks to Lilian for cheering me on and being just generally wonderful.  
> Hope you'll enjoy this chapter (the longest one yet!)

After Moody's funeral, Bill and Fleur get married, the Ministry falls, Harry, Ron, and Hermione go to Grimmauld place. There’s a present from Severus waiting, with a note that simply says ‘Happy Birthday Harry’ in the handwriting he would recognize anywhere. It’s a set of healing Potions, both common and rare ones, they must have taken ages to brew. He writes to Severus to thank him and Severus wishes him a happy birthday again. ‘Does Hermione know what a taboo is?’ Harry’s pebble says. She explains, and Harry writes back ‘Voldemort?’ It takes a few hours, but then his pebble shakes ‘yes’.

 

They meet Severus at Spinner’s End a few days later, where they plan their approach to Gringotts. 

“We can’t bribe a Goblin, we can’t break in. We’re not sure Imperius on Bellatrix will get us out again, because they have water that washes off enchantments. Involving Tonks might work but might also get her killed. Horcruxes are illegal and the Goblins might want it destroyed, so we’ll offer them a trade of Gryffindor’s sword if they let us destroy the Horcrux in the cup,” Ron summarizes.

“Ideally the Lestranges never find out,” Harry adds, “because then Vol - I hate this. Then Tom Riddle will know.”

“Who has access to these vaults? Is there any Lestrange we could use that isn’t Bellatrix?” Hermione chimes in.

“We could ask the Goblins to check, they have blood tests that they do, but it would require blood from the line. Again, Tonks might pass it, but if she doesn’t that’d be a pickle and a half.” Harry sits down next to Severus on the sofa. Severus is looking between the three of them like they’re passing a Quaffle around.

“Aren’t you friends with Flitwick’s mum now?” Ron asks Harry.

“Well yeah, but do we trust her enough to tell her what we need?”

“I don’t think we have a choice, unless we can find Hepzibah Smith’s family, get them to ‘find out’ the cup is with the Lestrange’s, and demand it back.”

“That could take years and would alert not just You-Know-Who but all of the Wizarding world to what’s happening,” Hermione says, “there’s precedent for it.”

“This is the home address of Flitwick’s parents,” Severus tells Harry, finally stepping into the conversation. He writes out a note, “I’m sure they’ll forgive you for showing up unannounced if you bring them something to apologize. Flitwick has a terrible sweet tooth that cannot have come from strangers.” 

 

Ron and Hermione leave early to see Hermione’s parents off to Kenya, so Harry and Severus cook dinner in the kitchen of Spinner’s End together.

“I have leftover meat,” Severus says, leaning down to see inside the fridge. “From a roast.” Harry tries to look away the sliver of skin he can see above Severus’ trousers, where his shirt has untucked itself.

“Might have veggies in the freezer...” Severus continues, unaware of Harry's dry mouth, rapid breathing, “probably an onion and a potato rolling around somewhere.”

He stands up and looks at Harry who feels caught. It must be all over his face. They blush at each other quietly, until Severus scrapes his throat. “That alright?”

Harry nods, and they get to work.

On the sofa, not twenty minutes later, they’re both spooning down a rather soupy stew, courtesy of a can of tomatoes and the frozen peas. It tastes of rosemary and warm broth and is surprisingly delicious.

Harry finishes first, scraping the last bits of sauce out of his bowl with his spoon. “Beast,” Severus mumbles, but he’s grinning. Harry winks at him and laughs when Severus turns back to his food briskly and shakes out his greasy hair to cover his face. He leans his head on Severus’ shoulder and waits for him to finish eating.

"I've started," Harry shifts, not sure how to say this. "The dreams. Since my birthday. Only a couple of times, so far, and just you reading or brewing."

Severus nods, cheeks stained red. "Thank you for telling me."

“Would you read to me?” Harry sits back down after putting the bowls away. “Something nice, like a story.”

“Did you ever read the Grimm book you got me?”

Harry shakes no and settles in next to Severus with his knees pulled up. Severus summons the throw and the book, pulls Harry closer, and starts reading.

“Once upon a time...”

It takes about two pages before Harry feels his eyes start to slip closed, he’s focusing more on the sound of Severus’ voice than on the content of his words, but it doesn’t matter. He’s close. He smells like himself. They’re full and warm and together.

When Severus wakes him up to send him back to Grimmauld place Harry shivers with cold and sleep so Severus wraps his arms around him and Apparates them both straight onto the front step. Harry whines as he’s pushed towards the stairs, so Severus leans in and kisses his forehead carefully.

“Busy day tomorrow bab, you’ll need your sleep.”

He’s gone before Harry can process what he’s just said.

 

Harry goes to meet Gar Flitwick and her husband Fides Flitwick. He brings them a jar of fancy honey, homemade biscuits, and a bouquet of flowers. They love him immediately and set him up in the kitchen with tea that both of them stir truly absurd amounts of honey into. They drizzle the honey over the biscuits before eating them and seem warm and content. Gar looks scary and mean, but she lets him explain what’s going on.

“I don’t understand,” Fides interrupts, “You-Know-Who made dark objects and one is at Gringotts? And you need to get it out without anyone knowing? Why?” 

“To save lives,” Gar hisses, shushing him with a hand gesture. “As a full Goblin I can do it, my blood gives me access to the vault. All I need is another willing Goblin, so I’ll ask around. You understand why this isn’t public knowledge and why it should stay that way. The Gringotts family might even forgive me if I have a good reason and can promise something in return.”

“Ravenclaw’s diadem, Gryffindor’s sword, Slytherin’s locket, Hufflepuff’s cup.” 

“All Goblin made,” Gar confirms.

“I’ll get all of them to you, after I defeat Voldemort.”

“How will I know to trust you,” she asks, looking altogether too shrewd for someone who’s very busy licking honey off a spoon.

“I’ll make an Unbreakable Vow,” Harry says.

“Goblins can’t have wands; how would I accept such a vow?”

Harry laughs, “tell that to someone you didn’t spend all summer sending books to. You’re as magical as I am.”

She accepts, and not a week later Harry stands in Spinner’s End holding the cup still while it screams about how his friends will reject him if they find out the truth before he stabs it with a Basilisk’s tooth.

“There we go,” he says brightly, “now we set up a meeting with Tom.”

“Your birthday first, Harry,” Ron tells him, seemingly unaffected by the cup’s revelations about hidden truths.

“We’re off to Grimmauld place,” Hermione tells him, giving him a brief hug. “We’ll expect you back there tomorrow night.”

“Thank you,” Harry smiles, feeling warm and happy as he looks at his friends. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Severus and Harry see Ron and Hermione out, then lean against the front door together.

“What’s the plan?” Harry asks turning to face a pale Severus. He hasn’t been sleeping well.

“Tonight, nothing is planned, tomorrow I was thinking of exploring another house no one’s been to in ages if you’re up for it. Then dinner in London.”

“Was anyone brutally murdered there?”

“No,” Severus smiles at him, “natural causes. I’ll inherit it when I’m 40, as is traditional.”

“Why 40?” Harry asks, taking Severus’ hand and dragging him to the kitchen.

“Princes weren’t land owners. They were merchants, lawyers, craftsmen. It was a way to make sure children would want to make a name for themselves, make their own money. The Goyles used to do something similar until about two generations ago I believe.”

“Did they skip your mother?”

“She died at 38,” Severus smiles sadly. “She never reconciled with her parents, and both of them outlived her.”

“Damn,” Harry sighs, not letting go of Severus' hand. “So it’s been empty since your grandparents died? Can we get in if it’s not yours?”

“We can, it’s mine because there is no one else left, even if the legality is a little complicated. I can’t access the vaults until I’m 40, but houses need to be taken care of and I’m allowed to do that even if I can’t officially live there. I’ll be selling it though, the minute I can. It’s stupidly large, very old, and in London.”

“Yeah?” Harry grins, “how many bedrooms?”

Severus smiles back, “we’ll have to count them tomorrow, I’ve no idea. Now, will you tell me why we’re in the kitchen?”

“Oh,” Harry looks around, “I was thirsty.” 

“Would you like a glass of water or do I make you a gin and tonic?”

“I’ve never had one,” Harry admits, sips here and there at parties in the Gryffindor common room hadn’t really encouraged him to try drinking more than Butterbeer.

“I’ll make myself one,” Severus suggests, “then you can try it and tell me if you want one too.”

Harry grins and nods, and Severus rummages around. When he has squeezed a quarter of a lime and tossed it in, he hands the drink to Harry. Harry takes a careful sip, decides he likes it a lot, and holds the glass out of reach when Severus tries to take it back.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Severus smiles, and he makes himself one too. Together, they stand in the kitchen.

“Can I say something about the thing we’re not to talk about?” Harry asks.

“You’re allowed to say anything,” Severus blushes and stares intently at his feet.

“I really appreciate this. The planning, the care, how devoted you are.”

Severus nods, it’s dark enough that his eyes seem to be proper black once again. He nods his head in the direction of the living room, and Harry follows. Severus messes about with the LP-player and the box of records next to it. Finally, the first sounds of a song start and Severus flicks his wand to push the sofa off to the side to create space.

“What’s this?” Harry asks, draining his glass.

“Rock and roll,” Severus tells him, plucking the glass from his fingers and setting it down. He holds out his hand and Harry takes it eagerly.

“It’s different from the waltz,” Severus explains, “but I think you’ll figure it out if you just follow my lead. It’s a lot faster, mostly.”

They spend the next hour or so dancing, with Severus spinning and twirling Harry around. He looks so happy, his eyes bright and locks of hair falling out of his bun. Harry has to focus on the dancing to keep himself from staring too much. Sometimes he can tell that Severus knows the lyrics by heart and is trying not to sing along.

It’s such a heady feeling to be held and to move together to the cheerful music that when they finally collapse onto the sofa Harry can’t stop smiling. He tries, but the corners of his mouth twitch right up again.

“Aguamenti,” Severus says to the glasses he summons from the kitchen. They fill up with water and he hands one over to Harry.

“Where’d you learn to dance like that?” Harry asks breathlessly.

“Underground gay clubs,” Severus grins. “Muggles have very different opinions regarding same-sex relationships than we do, but their music is so much better.”

“What about the touching people thing?” Harry frowns.

“It got worse over the years, and I tried to ignore it then. I wasn’t sure the issue was that I was bonded, not until I met you,” Severus says awkwardly.

“That must have been hard,” Harry muses, “I’ve known since I was eleven that at least I wasn’t alone and there was a person I didn’t mind touching.”

“You marvel,” Severus tells him breathlessly, reaching out to touch Harry and stopping himself halfway there, “that’s what you latched onto from all of that?”

“Well yeah,” Harry wrinkles his nose. Why wouldn’t he? “I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about what else happens at underground gay bars but I am sure that I’m grateful to have grown up with you around.”

Severus kisses the top of his head quickly and Harry beams, it’s not often that Severus lets himself initiate contact like this. Then Severus gets up and stretches out with a groan. “It’s getting late, you should take the bed upstairs, I’ll take the sofa.”

“Why?” 

“This sofa was Transfigured from my old bed, and I’m not sure it’ll hold up. The bed upstairs is quite new, I assure you you’ll be comfortable.” 

“Don’t be daft, you’ll join me upstairs.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m an adult Severus, I can tell you what I do or don’t want. You’ll sleep in the bed upstairs with me, unless you have a better reason than my honour for not doing so.”

Severus looks very grumpy but Harry knows he’s won. “Didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Severus mumbles, getting up from the sofa.

“Do you snore?” Harry teases, “or kick people in your sleep?”

“You know,” Severus says, turning to him, “I have no idea.”

It makes sense, he hasn’t lived in a dorm for decades and dancing with someone for a few minutes is very different than spending the night touching. Still odd though, not to know such things about yourself, thinks Harry, as he follows Severus upstairs.

He gets thrown some pyjamas from the wardrobe in the hallway and pointed in the direction of the bathroom.

“Do you happen to have a towel for me? I’d like to shower.”

Severus blushes, “have you ever used warming charms for showering before?”

Harry shakes his head no and Severus explains. He showers quickly, not wanting to waste water. Spares a thought for Severus who showered cold or had to ask his mother for help until he was seventeen. When he’s brushed his teeth with an unused toothbrush he found in the cupboard and changed into pyjamas, he goes to find the bedroom. The first door he opens is a very small, empty room. It would fit a bed, Harry thinks while squinting at it, but not much more. The next door he opens shows a room that’s quite a bit bigger. It still doesn’t fit all that much beyond a double bed and the bookcase next to the door, but it feels entirely different.

“Why is this room nice?” He asks Severus, who is staring out the window.

“Pettigrew stayed here last summer, it’s why I spent so much time here rather than in Surrey.”

Harry laughs, “you made him sleep on the bare floor and warded this room within an inch of its life?”

“I even came up with a spell that makes this room look dingy too if you saw it from outside of the threshold,” Severus announces proudly, and they both laugh.

“Go brush your teeth,” Harry urges, “it’s past midnight.”

Severus leaves the room and Harry crawls into bed, it smells like Severus, clean and comfortable. He’s glad he showered now and feels safe and warm. By the time Severus comes back into the bedroom, he’s almost asleep.

“Come ooon,” he whines. Severus chuckles and slides in next to him, and Harry wraps himself around Severus.

“Nightshirt?” He mumbles when he notices what Severus is sleeping in.

“I don’t have an endless supply of pyjamas and I like to sleep in nightshirts, they’re just rather unflattering.”

“Yeah, we’re past that I’m afraid,” Harry mumbles.

“Harry,” Severus sounds serious, which wakes Harry up enough to listen properly. “I know I’m not...  But I have to say I don’t like the idea that - ”

“Gods,” Harry interrupts. “Not where I was going with that at all. Simply meant that I’ve seen you in hospital, seen you cry. You saw me in hospital and crying too many times to count, if we still want each other after that I think decent pyjamas are no longer necessary.”

Severus sighs. Curls up onto his side. Knowing how close their faces are feels strangely intimate in the dark. Like maybe they should be kissing.

“For what it’s worth,” Harry starts, but Severus interrupts him.

“That’s not necessary.”

“I should think it is, if that was what your mind jumped to. You know I’ve heard it all right? Lanky, greasy, sallow, hooked nose? When I look at you I see warm eyes, gorgeous cheekbones, graceful hands. I like everything about you.”

Harry pushes in closer. “Tell me you’ve heard me tell me you understand.”

Severus shakes his head, buries his face in Harry’s hair. He’s quiet for so long that Harry thinks he might not say anything at all anymore. He’s just contemplating telling Severus goodnight when he gets pulled in even closer.

“I’m so sorry you had to watch me do that, Harry." His voice is hoarse, "so, so sorry.”

“Had to be done Severus, we’d known for a while it’d happen. I’m sorry you had to do it. Although considering the amounts of Draught of Despair I forced down his throat, it was probably barely necessary anymore.”

“He made you do that,” Severus whispers, trailing fingers across Harry’s forehead, “even after you told him it was fake.”

Harry’s eyes are starting to burn, “Severus is it -”. He swallows and tries again. “Is it bad that I’m glad we were both there? I’m not sure if I’d be able to cope if I didn’t know you saw it too, I wasn’t alone.”

“No,” Severus soothes, “that’s not bad at all.”

“Much as it was awful to have Dumbledore constantly spreading the risk by not telling anyone the whole story, it was nice to feel like he would lead us to victory.”

“Now it’s up to us,” Severus agrees. “And in just over two weeks, hundreds of students will be arriving at Hogwarts where I will have to keep them safe while letting them hate me.”

“You’ll have help, from us, and the house-elves.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Severus confesses, “of telling Minerva. She would be such a good ally to have but I’m not sure she’d be able to keep from defending me in front of the other teachers.”

“You can always let her decide that,” Harry suppresses a big yawn.

“What do you mean?”

“You let me decide at eleven if I could handle a secret. You let Dudley decide. Offer her the same choice, Obliviation if she’s not sure she can do it.”

“That’s a very good idea,” Severus takes a deep breath, like a burden was just lifted. “I can even set it so she remembers once the Dark Lord dies, it would be good to have an ally during the fall-out too.”

It's a relief to lie next to Severus, to know he'll be there in the morning and there won't be the empty feeling of waking up from a dream with Severus to a bed without him.

 

They wake up the next morning wrapped up in each other’s arms. Harry smiles when he notices they barely take up half of the bed like this. He kisses Severus’ forehead over and over until his eyelashes flutter.

“Good morning,” Harry whispers.

“Happy birthday,” Severus answers, grinning.

Harry laughs, “fake birthday. What’s for breakfast?”

“Teenagers,” Severus complains. “Why don’t you go find out and I’ll pack for the day.”

Harry thinks on it for a moment, then snuggles closer. “Five more minutes.”

“Alright,” sighs Severus, wrapping his arms around Harry again.

“Harry,” Severus breathes, half an hour later, “it’s time to get up.”

“Can we do this again sometimes?” Harry asks, rubbing his eyes.

“Can we do what again?”

Harry can feel his cheeks heat as he looks at Severus, “sleep together, I guess, like this?”

“Harry, I’ve never set a ward that wouldn’t allow you entrance. You’re welcome everywhere in my life, whenever you want.” 

Harry thinks on that for a moment while he climbs out of bed and looks around in his pouch for something to wear. He takes off the pyjamas without even thinking about it and doesn’t turn around until he’s dressed in jeans and a saggy sweater that used to belong to Dudley. Severus sits awkwardly in bed, his face bright red, and Harry remembers that Severus hasn’t lived in a dorm in decades. 

“I’m sorry,” he starts.

“No, no,” Severus interrupts, “I’m glad you feel comfortable around me, I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Harry beams at him, it’s kind of sweet that Severus gets this flustered from watching Harry change. He considers teasing Severus with it but decides against it. “I’ll go make breakfast, see you in a second,” he says instead. 

When he’s happily whisking the milk into the eggs, Severus joins him. “I’ve the kettle on, but I don’t know how to make coffee without a machine,” Harry tells him, when he feels Severus step close.

Severus hums near his ear, and the vibrations tingle all along Harry’s skin. “There’s a French press in the cupboard, let me show you.”

While Severus makes tea and coffee, Harry bakes omelettes.

“No ham for you?”

Severus hums. “Thank you.”

“I was thinking we go to the house in the morning, have lunch somewhere near, return to the house or if we’re tired of it go somewhere else, then dinner at a Chinese place.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“The first part of your gift is here actually,” Severus says when he’s done eating. “An offer of my childhood home as a secure hideout whenever you need it.” 

“Is that why the explosion happened?”

“It is, I needed to make sure no Death Eaters or Order members would come looking for me here.”

“On to the next part then?” Harry asks, standing up and setting the dishes to wash themselves.

“Let’s go,” Severus suggests, offering his arm. They Apparate into a gazebo in a completely overrun garden.

“When were you here last?”

“For the reading of the will when my grandfather died, 1985, I think. My grandmother died a year before that, they were both old when they had my mother so it wasn’t really a surprise.”

“And your father?” 

“About two years after that but I didn’t see him much after my mother passed.”

As they walk through the garden, Harry thinks of something. “How come your dad’s name was Tobias Snape if he was from China?”

Severus grins at him. “You’re not the first person to ask me that. He came here when he was sixteen, was adopted by a foster family, then kicked out the day he turned eighteen. I think he liked that the name suggests that he was really English, even if he wasn’t born here.”

“Makes sense,” Harry nods, “names have a lot of power.”

“They do,” Severus agrees, “but I’ve no strong connection to the name Snape. I never met the people my father got the name from.”

“And you always did like thinking of yourself as more Prince anyway,” Harry says, staring up at the house. It really is stupidly large. He takes Severus’ hand and feels a rush of warmth when Severus squeezes back.

“Everything of value should be in the vault, we’re just here to explore a creaking old mansion. Let me know if you get bored.”

Harry shoots him a look, as if exploring a house could be boring. “Not like we could take anything anyway right? Since you’re not 40 yet.”

“You’re right.”

As they are creeping through the attic, looking into rooms that were probably built for servants, then occupied by entire families of house-elves, Harry turns to Severus.

“Did you just not want to live here? Or was it important to you to have a home ready as soon as possible?”

“Bit of both, I suppose,” Severus tells him honestly. He raises his wand higher and adjusts the brightness of the light shining out of the tip. “This is the sixth gift, something of my family. Seven is something more personal than that. For some people family might be the most personal thing there is, but that has never been the case for me.”

Harry hums. “Your most guarded secret is what you actually like and dislike. That'll probably be fairly obvious from the house you spent a decade or so renovating.”

Severus blinks at him slowly so Harry changes the topic. “There’s also the whole ten bedrooms thing. And that’s only if you don’t count the ones up here.”

“It’s too big, I agree.”

“Maybe whoever buys it will turn it into a hotel?”

Severus snorts, “people buy houses in this neighbourhood for no other reason than to say they have a house here. It’s all but abandoned. My grandparents were the last wizards to live around here I think. The house has good wards and it would be a shame to sell this kind of magical protection to one who cannot appreciate it, but I’m not too sentimental about it.”

“Depending on whether we need the money, we could always turn it into an orphanage or something,” Harry says cheerfully. He can see what it would look like clean and filled with colour and laughter. When he turns to look at Severus, he can tell he’s is thinking something, so he tries to get a look at his face. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“You’re thinking something. We don’t know how much my parents left in the savings vault and we definitely don’t know how much is in there now, why is that making you pull a face?”

Severus wraps his arms around Harry and Harry leans into it. “Kindness.”

“Oh,” Harry sighs, “I do mean it, my future is with you. What’s mine is yours, all that.”

“Shakespeare?”

Harry laughs. “You should know," he teases, "I’ve spent a lot of time in a Muggle library.”

Around one o’clock they start feeling hungry and they’ve seen all of the mansion. It’s structurally in a good shape, even if it needs a good cleaning. Most of the walls are bare, most of the shelves are empty, since everything of value was put into the vault at Gringotts. They’d spent a bit of time in what used to be Eileen’s room but the rest of the rooms they just walked through. Severus touches all the walls, all the fireplaces, all the windowsills so carefully. As if he can see what used to take place in these rooms by being there and feeling it.

“Is there a park or something near here?” Harry asks after sneezing for what feels like the fiftieth time. 

“Hampstead Heath is just down the road, but I suggest we buy something for lunch first.”

Harry agrees and Severus takes them to a very small French bakery. They buy all kinds of pastries, sweet and savoury, and take the paper bags to the park.

Severus sneakily conjures a blanket and they sit down in the grass together. They each take a pastry. 

“Should we worry about being recognized?”

“No,” Severus says, “remember the spell you asked me about?”

“Yeah? The one your hide your face with a Muffliato mask. You figured it out?”

“I did, although you really did most of the work. I’ll show you how it works when we’re back at Hogwarts. It was a very clever idea.”

“Thanks,” Harry beams, lying down after having inhaled enough pastries to be vaguely nauseous. “Is it a secret?”

“It is, I can teach you and your friends, but it’s for the best if the Dark Lord doesn’t find out such a spell exists, which means we cannot tell the Order.”

“Do you know who the mole is?”

“Mundungus sells information, I’m not sure there are other leaks, but it’s always better to be prudent in such cases.” 

Severus lies down too and they stare at the clouds that passing by. Harry sneaks his hand into Severus’.

“What should I do with Godric’s Hollow?”

“I’m not sure anyone would want to live there,” Severus laughs. Then a group of people passes by. They’re talking about something, but all Harry catches is ‘queers’. Severus freezes.

“Severus,” Harry whispers. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you not hear that?”

“Oh, I did,” Harry tells him, rolling over to his side so he’s facing Severus. He starts pulling his hand away, but Severus grabs tighter.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel I’m ashamed or embarrassed,” Severus protests.

“I know,” Harry says, wriggling his fingers free. He places his newly freed hand on the side of Severus’ face, and the other on his waist.

“Does it not bother you at all?”

“Not from them, no,” Harry tells him, leaning their foreheads together. “They’re Muggles and I no longer have the trace. They couldn’t hurt me if they tried. Which they didn’t, they were just being bullies.”

Severus hums and rolls over to face Harry properly. He traces Harry’s jaw with a finger, and it makes Harry’s toes curl in pleasure.

“Besides,” Harry whispers against Severus’ cheek, “I’d rather they think us a couple than the alternatives.”

“What are the other options?” 

“Just friends, colleagues, related,” Harry shudders, “strangers.”

“I too am glad we’re not strangers,” Severus tells him, trailing long fingers up and down Harry’s back.

Harry leans closer, then closer still. He can feel Severus holding perfectly still, breathing a little quicker than he normally does. Harry feels the puffs of breath, then sees Severus lick his lips.

"Ok?" He waits for Severus to nod carefully, then closes the distance between them, almost all the way. So close to Severus, not touching their lips together just yet, the hesitation he’s gotten used to flares in his belly. _Not allowed_ , he feels, but he _wants_ and now they’re both _here_ and _who’d even know_? Severus looks afraid, trembles under Harry’s hands, eyes flickering between lips and eyes. But he doesn’t pull away. Years of pulling away is the same as years of not allowed, Harry thinks. And if Severus can be brave, so can he.

It’s not wet, like Cho, it’s not harsh, like Ginny. It’s Severus and it’s perfect. Severus takes less than a second to start kissing back eagerly and Harry pushes him onto his back so he can lean over him. He wants everything, every sound, every breath, every shiver. Way before he’s ready to stop, Severus places his hands on Harry’s shoulders and gently stills him.

“What?” Pants Harry.

“We’re in public and it’ll get harder to stop, not easier.”

Harry whines but lets his head fall down onto Severus’ chest.

“We’ll just have to do it again another time,” Severus chuckles. Harry whips his face up to look at him, and Severus’ face falls, his eyes losing some of their brightness. “Unless...”

“Severus I could do this all day, every day, for the rest of my life. Sod Tom Riddle, sod the prophecy, sod Albus Dumbledore.”

Severus’ face breaks open into a wide grin, the best one Harry’s ever seen. He wraps his arms around Harry’s waist and Harry has to crane his neck to keep looking at that smile. He knows he looks the same; ridiculously happy in the middle of a war.

“Let’s go,” Harry whispers, “we can walk around. Show me something else that’s symbolic of your family. Help me not besmirch your honour by having you in this park.”

Severus snorts, “I’m hardly a fair maiden, Harry.” Harry shrugs and grins, he’s too happy to argue with Severus about how pretty he is.

 

“When did you last visit a museum?” Severus asks him seriously as they make a show of folding the blanket.

Harry stares at him, “I went to the Natural History Museum once in primary school?”

Severus nods sadly and offers Harry his hand. Together they walk towards some bushes.

“Put it over here,” Harry suggests, pointing at a plastic bag lying next to a stack of rags, before Severus can Banish the blanket.

“It might disappear, I didn’t put a lot of effort into it.”

“Better than nothing while it lasts,” Harry shrugs. 

“Do we Apparate or do we walk?” Severus asks him quietly, “it’s about 40 minutes from here if we walk straight, an hour for the nice route.”

“I’d rather walk the nice route. The weather is gorgeous and it might be a while before we’re outside like this again.”

Severus nods, and tugs him along. They take their time, walking through lanes and streets before they come to another park. Harry clings to Severus the whole time. It’s good to be out like this in summer, Harry thinks, breathing in the grass and the warmth and the flowers. After they leave the park, they walk a bit further before Severus stops.

“The British Museum,” he makes a wide hand gesture. They walk in together, and Severus tugs him along. “The Ancient Egypt section is right here, if you’re wanting to see more after we can go on to Ancient Greece and Rome, but you might be overwhelmed.”

“Because it’s my first time?”

Severus hums, “we’ll have to build up your museum tolerance slowly.”

He’s right, by the time they finish looking at the Egyptian things around the room, with Severus whispering in his ear about what they’re looking at and how the Muggles are wrong, Harry is tired.

“One more thing?” Severus asks.

“Ok,” Harry sighs, “one more thing.”

They go upstairs and look at the Shiva Nataraja, the oldest known Nataraja image. Harry is spellbound, staring at it from all angles. It moves slowly, stretching its legs, moving its arms. It’s obvious the Muggles can’t see him dance to some music even Harry can’t hear, slow like a heartbeat. Harry has never experienced magic like it and has to be dragged away by Severus.

“We’ll come back right?” He stares at Severus, who has a strange look on his face.

“Yes, if you wish, we can come back.”

“I’m beat,” Harry whispers as they stand in the hall the entered through.

“We’ll sit in a park before dinner. Unless you’d rather have tea somewhere?”

Harry blushes, but decides to tell the truth. “I’m honestly kind of hungry.”

“Let me take you for tea, it’s a few hours still before dinner,” Severus suggests, looking very amused.

“How come I can see you?” Harry asks, “when we’re wearing the not-glamour?”

“A lot of our magic doesn’t work on each other. There are many theories as to why it wouldn’t, but essentially it seems whatever lets us perform magic recognizes the other’s magic as ‘self’.”

“Like an immune system?” Harry asks. Two summers ago, he got into biology and read every book in the Surrey library on it. Not that he’d understood all but the basics he remembered well.

“What an interesting idea,” Severus grins approvingly. “What made you think of that?”

“Well,” Harry starts, “the first function of an immune system is to recognize what is self and what isn’t, the second function is to get rid of what isn’t self.”

They talk about it all the way to a tiny cramped store where Severus drops his glamour for a second as they step in. The owner grins brightly at them and rushes them through to the back. Next to an old table stands a stack of stools, Severus picks off three and gives one to the owner, and one to Harry. He motions for Harry to sit and does the same.

“A coffee for me please,” Severus tells the owner, after Harry and the owner, who’s called Amin, have been introduced to each other.

“Tea for you?” Amin asks Harry. Harry smiles and nods at him, and soon there’s a pot of sweet hot tea on the table. Amin also sets down a huge plate of sweets and pastries.

“Who’s manning the shop?” Harry asks, when he’s eaten a bit and has his hand wrapped around the tiny tea glass.

“Oh, it lets me know when someone comes in,” Amin waves the concern off.

“Alright,” says Harry, not understanding at all.

“Amin was in his seventh year at Hogwarts when I started teaching,” Severus explains. “Then he moved back here to help his parents with the shop.”

“They’re very old now,” Amin continues, “so it’s mostly just me until my children are old enough to help out.”

“How old is Nadia now?” Severus asks, as if he asks people about their children every day. Harry tries not to smile but it is very hard. It might be the strangest thing he’s ever seen, Professor Snape on a stool, making small talk.

“Eight soon,” Amin sighs, “magic coming out of her pores. Not so sure about her little brother, but Nadia will be going to Hogwarts one day.”

“We’ve a bet going,” Severus whispers to Harry, which causes Amin to laugh, “I think she’ll be a Slytherin, Amin here thinks she’ll be a Ravenclaw like her dad.”

“What about her mum?” Harry asks Amin.

“Muggle,” he says.

“But so Slytherin the Sorting Hat would send her to the dungeons regardless,” Severus adds.

“No,” Harry says, “what does her mum think about what house she’ll be in?”

Amin laughs, “is this one of your snakes Severus? He’s cunning enough for sure. Ilham thinks she’ll be choosing for herself. I tried to tell her that’s not how it works but she will not listen.”

“I did it,” Harry says, “I asked the Sorting Hat to place me where I am. If I’m allowed in on the bet, I’ll side with your wife.”

“You’re in,” Amin says, grinning at Harry happily.

They chat until a customer comes, then Harry and Severus say their goodbyes and walk out together. They cross a busy street and Severus checks his watch.

“Right on time for the reservation,” he notes. “Perfect.”

He takes Harry’s hand and leads him through a busy street, then into what seems to be a residential building.

“Where are we going?” Harry whispers when they’re walking up the narrow stairs together.

“Dinner,” Severus whispers back. “It’s not technically legal to run a restaurant out of your home but it makes for very good food.”

Harry pushes him against the nearest wall, then leans forward to kiss him quickly.

“What was that for?” Severus whispers as he wraps his arms around Harry's waist. They both have stupid grins on their faces again.

“I’m really very happy today, and you held my hand,” Harry tells him. “This is perfect.”

Severus shoots him a pleased look, then places his hand on the small of Harry’s back to guide him to a door. He knocks, and it opens to show a large room with an open kitchen. There are only five tables, of different sizes, and the waiter leads them to table for two by the window in the back. The restaurant isn’t full, but two of the other tables have groups of people that are happily chatting and eating already. The whole room smells like spices and food and comfort. 

Harry leans back while Severus talks to the waiter. Severus looks at Harry a few times and Harry catches words here and there, his Chinese is coming along but he’s hardly fluent. He recognizes _food_ of course, hears them talk about how long something will take, and Severus says _hao_ a lot. Good.  

“So, what’s happening?” Harry asks, after the waiter leaves.

“We’re having hot pot, like the other tables. I had to tell him if there’s anything we don’t eat, what we want to drink, how spicy we like our food, all that. I asked for spicy broth, and a little bit of everything otherwise. We can always order more of something if we like it.”

The waiter comes back and places a small burner and two beers on the table.

“Hot pot is for family, or friends, and the people that run this restaurant are from the north like my father’s family.”

“It’s very appropriate,” Harry promises. Severus visibly relaxes.

“Why did you drop our glamours when we walked in here?”

“It would unsettle them, and they wouldn’t understand why. There are only Muggles here and if something does happen we can Apparate out.”

Hot pot is delicious, Harry decides as he fishes a bit of lamb out of the broth. Spicy, warming, and really fun. He understands why it would be a family thing. Harry finds himself staring at Severus and unable to stop smiling. 

“Penny for them?” Severus prods his leg with a foot.

“Wondering if you ever did this as a child,” Harry explains.

“No, Cokeworth hardly had a supply chain of the things you need for making hot pot. The first time I had it was in London, while I was studying to become a Potions Master.”

Harry is on his third beer and close to exploding when they finish eating. Severus looks so content and happy, that he reaches across the table to squeeze his hand. After paying, Severus shepherds him out of the building again. It’s dark already, and they walk down the street hand in hand.

“I’m not ready to go back yet,” Harry whispers.

“I’m not done yet,” Severus whispers back. “Hold on.”

They Apparate with a pop and the first thing Harry notices is that it’s cold. Then he opens his eyes and sees the entire city laid out in front of them.

“Where are we?” He asks, shivering from the sight as much as from the cold.

“St Pauls, all the way up,” Severus explains, fishing a thick woollen sweater from the pouch on his belt. He hands it to Harry and grabs himself one too. Then he Conjures a squishy sofa and tests it carefully.

“Join me?” He asks, sounding unusually shy and worried. Harry plonks down next to him and shuffles closer, pushing off his trainers and tucking his legs under.

“Nowhere I’d rather be,” he tells Severus quietly.

Severus sighs and wraps an arm around Harry, pulling him closer. They enjoy the view quietly, watching the blinking lights, seeing lit up boats travel up and down the Thames. Harry startles when Severus moves, he was so absorbed in the view that he hadn’t realized time was passing at all.

“I’ve something else,” Severus tells him, wriggling his arm free.

Harry turns his way. He feels safe and kept, even if they’re on top of a tower overlooking the whole city. Severus hands him a small red package with both hands. Harry opens it carefully, it’s strangely heavy. When he pulls the present free from the tissue paper surrounding it, he sees a small statue, a cube that’s maybe two inches tall. Even in the low light he can tell it’s elegantly carved and clearly jade. It feels important, warming up to his palm quickly.

He looks at Severus, who is staring back at him.

“What’s this?”

“It belonged to my father and to his father before him. It’s the only thing my father took when he left China, besides the two pictures you’ve seen and the clothes he was wearing.”

“Severus...” Harry crawls closer.

“It’s traditional to give jade to babies, they symbolize a long list of good things but mostly what I’m giving you this for,” Severus twists it so it’s facing Harry a different way, “is because of this.”

“What is it?”

“This is a monkey, and this,” he twists it again, “is a pig.”

“Chinese zodiac signs?”

“Our Chinese zodiac signs.”

Harry looks at Severus, holding the jade in his fist. He leans his head forward to rest on Severus’ collarbone.

“I’m not sure I believe in destiny, Harry, I certainly don’t like prophecy. This though, is an unusual combination of signs, they’re not specifically compatible or incompatible. I asked my father who he knew that was either a hundred times as a kid, and he could never remember if he did know someone that matched the jade.”

“I like to think we choose to be together, every day, to create and to grow and to love,” Harry tells him, “and I’m so grateful the bond helps us do so.”

“Me too Harry,” Severus kisses his forehead as he says it. “Shall I take you back?”

“Come with me?”

“I’d love to,” Severus tells him, trailing fingers along his cheek, “but please tell Ronald first.”

“You’re right,” Harry holds tight, “I will.”

Severus Apparates him back to Grimmauld place and sees him off by the front door, Harry gives him a quick kiss before sneaking inside quietly. He closes the door and leans back against it, touching his lips carefully. From the front room he can hear snoring, which probably means Ron fell asleep on the sofa again. He tiptoes over to check, and finds Ron passed out, half on the sofa, half on the floor, and Hermione sitting on the carpet in front of the fire reading. She looks up when she hears Harry come in and grins. Harry places his index finger across his lips and nods in the direction of the kitchen. He leaves to go put on the kettle. 

When he has a teapot and two mugs in front of him, Hermione slips in.

“Tossed a throw over him,” she says, taking a seat opposite Harry.

Harry nods, “good thinking.”

With a _thunk_ he lets his head fall onto the table. Hermione pats his hand, and Harry starts crying. He’s mortified but he can’t stop, folding his arms over his head as cries into the table.

“Harry,” Hermione urges, “was it not good?”

“No!” Harry hisses, “it was perfect.”

Hermione lies her head down on the table next to Harry, only grabbing on to his elbow. He knows she’d rather hug him, and he’s very grateful that she doesn’t as he sobs.

“It was so good,” he manages, “we danced in his parents’ house, we explored his grandparents’ house, and we went to a museum, and we had tea.”

He starts hiccoughing, and Hermione hands him his tea. After a few sips his breathing is getting more normal and the hiccoughing slows down.

“We...” he waits to breathe through the tight feeling in his chest, “had dinner.”

Hermione looks at him fondly, “and then we went to St Pauls, to the top, to look at the view.”

“That sounds like a perfect day,” she smiles. Harry drops his head down on the table and starts crying again. It’s not fair, he wants to be with Severus, he wants to be _there_ , they’ve waited long enough and he’s done.

Hermione lets him cry, holding his elbow across the table, until he calms down enough to look at her. He must look awful, his eyes hurt from crying.

“I kissed him,” he confesses, “we had lunch in a park and I kissed him and it was perfect.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Hermione tells him, tears in her eyes too, “you’ll be so happy together.”


	14. Year 7 - Regulus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That sounds like a perfect day,” she smiles. Harry drops his head down on the table and starts crying again. It’s not fair, he wants to be with Severus, he wants to be there, they’ve waited long enough and he’s done.
> 
> Hermione lets him cry, holding his elbow across the table, until he calms down enough to look at her. He must look awful, his eyes hurt from crying.
> 
> “I kissed him,” he confesses, “we had lunch in a park and I kissed him and it was perfect.”
> 
> “I’m so happy for you,” Hermione tells him, tears in her eyes too, “you’ll be so happy together.”

They spend the next few days interrogating Kreacher about hidden things of Grimmauld place, and then finally Ron thinks to ask him to bring every book in the house to the library. Hermione gets started on the stack of books he found to search for Horcruxes again, while Harry and Ron prepare for a trip to Gringotts to talk to his grandparents and look through the books in the Potter and Black vaults.

‘Shame we can’t look at the Prince books yet,’ he writes Severus. ‘Doubt you’d find anything,’ Severus replies. ‘Same for the Potter vault, they’re not that kind of family.’

Harry takes Ron to the Potter books and artefacts vault first. Ron goes to look through the titles, while Harry talks to Euphemia. She’s never heard of Horcruxes, none of the other portraits have either, and they’re all appalled by the news. Harry waits until Ron is all the way at the other side of the vault, then he leans closer to Euphemia.

“I’m being courted,” he whispers.

“Oh dear, that is such lovely news,” she smiles brightly at him. “Do you know who it is?”

Harry nods, “we just did the sixth one.” He can’t keep the smile off his face.

“What’d they do?” Euphemia asks, her tone gossipy and fond. He tells her, grinning and blushing.

“Oh, you’ve got it bad! I wish your parents could see this,” Euphemia looks like she would climb out of the portrait if she could.

“Me too,” Harry grins, “I doubt dad’d be happy about who it is but maybe it would all work out.”

“The man who was in here with you last time?”

Harry nods shyly. “That’s wonderful,” Euphemia coos, “it’s so clear he cares for you. I’m sure James would come to see it too.”

“I like to think so,” Harry can’t stop smiling.

“What have you done to reciprocate so far?”

“Nothing yet,” Harry whispers, he knows just accepting the gifts is really the bare minimum.

“You’re of age now, aren’t you?” Euphemia stares him down. “Don’t leave someone who loves you so much he’d pile gifts onto you without a care for if it might make him seem desperate without a clear proof that his affections are appreciated.”

“You’re right, of course,” Harry nods.

“Your parents would be so proud of you, Harry, you’re such a fine young man, you’re doing so well.”

Remembering his outburst from a few days ago, Harry blinks back tears and thanks her. They say their goodbyes. Right on time, because Ron shouts about the Potters being ‘too bloody obsessed with cooking to have anything on Dark Arts’.

Harry laughs at that. “What’s your library at home look like Ron?”

“Cook books,” Ron grins back. “On to the next one?” 

The Black vault does have a number of paintings that know about Horcruxes, and they have plenty of books on the topic. The portraits seem unhappy when Harry suggests bringing the books with, so they talk to them first.

“Have you ever known of a person being made another person’s Horcrux?”

“Well it never works, does it,” someone says. “Bodies don’t like having two souls, so the person being made a Horcrux rejects it and kills the person making it.”

“What if that person already had a Horcrux?” Harry suggests.

“Two Horcruxes?” A child somewhere in the back cries, pushing his way forward. “That inhuman filth tried to make more than one?”

“You’re R.A.B. I take it?” Harry asks gently.

“Regulus, yes.” The boy bows and Harry realizes he looks just like Sirius. It makes his throat tight. 

“Any paintings of your brother left?”

“Not in here,” Regulus says, “but somewhere in the house there might be. Ask Kreacher. Is he alright?”

Ron rolls his eyes, “talk to Kreacher, like that’s easy. Sirius fled to Germany with his husband and daughter. They're safe but hard to reach.”

“Good," Regulus nods, "and of course it is! Just give him free reign of what meals he cooks for a day.”

“We’d have never thought of that,” Ron muses, “thanks.” 

“You-Know-Who made more than one, Regulus," Harry chimes in. "We’re trying to find out more about them, can you tell us how you figured it out and what could help us?”

“Yeah, I will. I think I died trying to destroy one,” he starts. “You’re the heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black right?”

Harry nods his head, “I think so, why?”

“Sworn secrecy, these paintings are to be loyal to the patriarch, but if you’re in here clearly you’re good enough. You can ask them not to reveal what we speak of today to anyone and they shouldn’t be able to.”

They talk for a while about how Regulus figured out where the Horcrux was, how long he tried to retrieve it, how his mother had all his paintings moved to the vault after he died, so worried something might happen to them. He points out the most useful books, then some others that he thinks could be interesting.

“Shall we take you?” Harry offers. “We’re staying at Grimmauld place, you could be home if you wanted to be.”

Regulus nods happily, “I’d like that very much. Please don’t bring this one though, there’s a painting somewhere around here that I’m not fourteen in.”

 

That night, they’re sitting on the floor in the sitting room at Grimmauld place, sorting through books and catching Regulus’ painting up on the last few years. 

“Severus can tell you more,” Hermione tells him when he asks about what happened right after Voldemort disappeared. As she says it, Harry can feel Severus pass through the wards, and open the door quietly. He leaves the sitting room to go greet Severus in the hallway.

“Hi,” he stands on his tiptoes to kiss Severus, “Regulus is here, we took a painting back from the vault.”

“Thank you for the warning,” Severus smiles at him warmly. “It’s good to see you.”

He trails his hand through Harry’s hair, then hangs his coat and leaves to the living room. Harry goes downstairs to make tea, and while he’s waiting for the water to boil, Ron joins him.

“They’re talking about the correct translation of some word and it was giving me a headache,” Ron laughs, bumping into Harry.

“Ron,” Harry says, “could you sit?”

They look at each other. “Is this like the time Hermione and you told me your archenemy was actually your friend?”

“Yeah,” Harry sighs, sitting down. He pours Ron some tea.

“I’m not sure why I’m doing this now, but I think maybe I’m done hiding it.”

“I’m all ears,” Ron says, looking rather nervous.

“I have a soul bond,” Harry blurts out. He stares into his mug. “With Severus.”

“Oh, bloody hell,” Ron groans. “You’re serious?”

Harry nods miserably. He doesn’t really want to look at Ron, but he also doesn’t want to give the impression that he’s unhappy with the situation. He’s still debating what to do, when Ron grabs his shoulder.

“Nothing can ever be easy for you, can it?”

“I love him though,” Harry tells him, finally looking up again. “I’m so glad it’s him, that we’re bonded like this, that we get to have this.”

“I’m sure you do,” Ron nods, “but _Severus Snape_. You two will never have peace again once everyone finds out.”

“Severus is quite good at Fidelius,” Harry grins, “they’ll have to find us first.”

“Get some wards that smash cameras,” Ron grins back.

“Dogs that bite everyone that comes too close.”

“Actual flames bursting out of the ground when they don’t know the password.”

Harry laughs, “crispy Skeeter.”

“He’s courting you then?” Ron asks when they finish laughing.

Harry hums, “has been for a while, my last birthday was the sixth present.”

 “What’d he get for his family?”

 Harry explains about the jade, the house, the Chinese food, and they laugh. When Severus comes by the kitchen to tell them he’s leaving, Ron gets up, tells them both goodnight and takes some tea up for Hermione.

“He knows?” Severus asks, sitting down next to Harry.

Harry nods and beams at him, “stay?” 

“I have a Potion that will need stirring around four in the morning.”

“Just wake up right before and Apparate over?”

“As you wish,” Severus nods, squeezing Harry’s shoulder briefly.

“No no,” this is all wrong, “yes please or no I’d rather not. Not because I want it.”

“Harry,” Severus says in his ear, “the only thing that I don’t want to do, that I do anyway, is letting you roam around when you could be locked up and safe somewhere in Southern America.”

Harry shivers, “that and spying.”

Severus nods and smiles at him. “Very true. Now, I believe your room is upstairs?”

It’s a little awkward to walk up the stairs together, to shout ‘good night’ to Ron and Hermione knowing Severus is right behind him. To look through the drawers of the wardrobe Harry found somewhere in the house for pyjamas that might fit Severus. Harry changes into his own pyjamas in the bathroom and brushes his teeth quickly. He sets out a new one for Severus and goes back to his bedroom, where Severus stands in an old t-shirt that once belonged to Dudley, and some cotton pyjama trousers that end above his ankles. Harry understands the urge to lock up and keep safe in South America very well all the sudden. Striking is rubbish pyjamas, shy and graceful.

“The toothbrush in the plastic is yours.” 

“Thank you,” Severus tells him, clearly not comfortable in clothes that don’t fit him. He steps past Harry into the bathroom and Harry crawls into bed.

When Severus joins him a few minutes later, he buries right into Severus’ arms.

“We can keep some of your clothes here,” Harry suggests, “so you can sleep over more comfortably.”

Severus strokes his hair. “We’ll have to hide them well, but we can do the same at Spinner’s End.”

Harry blushes and hides his face.

“What?” Severus sounds worried. “Is it too much that I assume you’ll be staying over again? If that makes you uncomfortable -”

“No!” Harry hisses, blushing even deeper, “I just like wearing your clothes. They smell of you.”

Severus makes a very strange face, cups Harry’s head in his hands, and kisses him all over. He’s quiet and gently and there’s no pattern. Brows, cheekbones, chin, nose, eyelids, forehead, lips. Harry wants to cry; the attention Severus is paying to him is almost too much. There is nothing else in the world, nothing outside of this bed, legs tangled together, warm Severus, endless affection.

Severus stops, and Harry whines. “What’s that?” Severus soothes.

“So good.”

“I love you,” Severus whispers, and Harry’s eyes fly open, scan his face. He looks terrified.

“I love you too,” he promises. “Have for years.”

Severus still looks scared, even if he seems to believe Harry.

“What are you so worried about then?”

“Everything,” Severus sighs, “you dying, me dying, someone you love dying, the Dark Lord not dying.”

“No one but Tom is going to die, we have to believe it, that is how we live.”

“You’re right of course.” Severus kisses Harry again, “and for now there’s this.”

“There is,” Harry feels his face pull into a happy grin. “Now update me on the cottage, did you manage to fix the carpets?”

“I did,” Severus pulls him in closer, “they finally arrived last week and I’ve put them all in place now.”

“What else needs to be done?”

Severus whispers about cutting the hedge, having the chimney cleaned, the first of the harvest of this year coming in, until Harry falls asleep.

  

The next day Hermione’s name is in the Prophet. She has to identify herself at the Ministry and present for interrogation.

“Should Harry and I be at Hogwarts? Will we be safe?”

“Better Hogwarts than anywhere else,” Ron promises. “Severus will let you two live in the Headmaster’s tower, I’ll attend classes, and we’ll keep on working on having as few people as possible die before You-Know-Who does. Remember the objectives.”

“One – kill Tom, two – have other people live,” Hermione smiles for the first time since she saw the article.

"Three - get fantastic grades for the NEWTs," Ron grabs her hand. "Severus did promise he'd tell the other teachers he's been tutoring us when it's all over."

“I really want to just break into Malfoy Manor and stab him,” Harry sighs. “With something so Muggle he’ll never recover from the insult. Like maybe...”

“A biro,” Hermione suggests.

“Run him over with a car.”

“Hit him over the head with a microwave.”

“I’m going to ignore all those words,” Ron says, looking very confused. “We need to set a trap, one that will keep him away from Hogwarts.”

“Could we pretend I’m stupid enough to challenge him to a proper duel?”

“We can,” Hermione tells him, “but it allows him to pick the time and place. We also still don’t know what professor Dumbledore wanted me to do with the Beedle the Bard book, or what opens the Snitch.”

“We need more time,” Harry finishes for her. "But we can't take too long, for objective two." 

“If we could somehow leak to him that you’re hiding somewhere remote, he’ll come. The information needs to be absolutely perfect though, he needs to think you’re alone and not in contact with anyone, he needs to not suspect a trap. It has to be remote so no one else gets hurt.”

“Well Severus may not be the most trusted still, but as headmaster he’ll be able to overhear things won’t he?”

“Let’s ask him,” Ron suggests. “And speaking of...”

Harry feels himself blush deeply.

“He did spend the night then?” Hermione teases.

“No, he had a Potion that needed tending, he just stayed until he had to go deal with it.”

“Alright then,” Ron winks.

“Stop it,” Harry whines, “before I start asking about you two.”

“Oh, we’re great, Harry,” Hermione laughs, “just last night we actually -”

“NO!”

Hermione and Ron laugh, and Harry joins in. He takes a moment to appreciate his friends. That they’ve always been there for him, that they just want him to be happy.

 

The next week, Ron buys all three of them their school supplies, they finish their summer homework, and prepare for going back to Hogwarts. On September 1st it is officially announced that Severus is the new headmaster and Ron spends the evening complaining about the train ride.

“They just wouldn’t shut up about it, I honestly considered just Apparating myself the rest of the way, hang out with you instead. I had to pretend of course to be shocked and aggrieved as well.”

“Aggrieved?” Severus drawls, stepping into the sitting room Hermione and Harry decided on taking.

“I know words!” Ron throws back. “Don’t know how you did this for years, Harry.”

“Which is why we didn’t tell you,” Harry says, stretching out onto the sofa.

“Harry, Hermione, are you both comfortable here?”

“We are,” Hermione smiles at him, “don’t worry about us.”

“I’m glad to hear, good night all,” Severus nods at them before leaving. He is still wearing the grand robes he wore to the Starting Feast. They’re all black, with a subtle silver thread weaving a pattern into them.

The headmaster’s tower has many empty rooms and Harry and Hermione spent the morning looking through them. The stairs will stop for you at any point if you ask them to, and doors appear when the headmaster touches the wall. About three floors underneath the office is a small apartment, two bedrooms, a sitting room, a bathroom and a tiny stove. Harry had wanted it immediately, but Hermione insisted on seeing all rooms before choosing. Dobby cleaned the room in no time at all, and it already had all the furniture they’d need.

When Ron has gone back to the Gryffindor dorm and Hermione has gone to bed, Harry goes to Severus.

“Can I see your bedroom?” He asks, leaning on the doorframe of Severus’ sitting room. It still looks like it belongs to Dumbledore, all awful colour combinations and stupidly fluffy chairs.

“What are you asking?” Severus looks at Harry over the paperwork he’s trudging through in the corner of the room. He’s still wearing formal clothes, but the robes are hanging by the door.

“Well,” Harry walks over and puts his hands on Severus’ shoulders. “I’d like to sleep here. But I’m also just interested in finding out if the bedroom is as awful as this sitting room.”

Severus looks at him, leaning back to do so. “You’re always welcome wherever I am, Harry. To whatever I have.”

“I only want to be here if you want me to be here.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t think it’s uncommon to feel wanted but it definitely also has to do with the bond.”

Severus pushes his chair back a little and Harry walks around to sit in his lap.

“Can you tell me?”

Harry hums, “just trying to find the right words. I love you and I love being with you. I’m glad we have the bond because we found each other earlier because of it. But I like to think that without the bond, we would still have found each other. Similar home life, my parents, being used by Dumbledore. It would have taken longer but I would have wanted you, because you’re gorgeous and wonderful.”

Severus wraps his arms around Harry, “if I had my way, you would have been strapped to my back for safety from the day I first met you. Everything is better when you’re close, Harry.”

“But is that the bond?”

“Part of it, probably. But you’re also my best friend, the person I share the most with, beautiful and funny and kind. In my mind, the bond pulls us closer. Then once we’re near, it’s all us.”

“I love that,” Harry kisses Severus, “and I’ll be stealing some pyjamas now if that’s alright.”

“More than,” Severus tells him, “silk is a _very_ good look on you.”

Harry shoots off of Severus’ lap and stares at him, his cheeks hot. Severus laughs softly and pushes him in the direction off the bedroom, “one thing at a time, love.”

After changing and brushing his teeth, Harry lies in bed staring at the ceiling. He knows he wants everything, he wants kissing and more and definitely sex. Eventually. Thinking about it turns him on, which is nothing new, and suddenly he’s glad he has his own bedroom downstairs. It’d be too much to lie next to Severus every night and not do anything about it. Severus comes in and walks through to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Harry’s mind goes to Severus in the bathroom, taking off his robes, his shirt, his trousers. It doesn’t help his problem but it does help him figure something else out. He wants to talk to Severus about this.

“Severus?” He whispers when the lights are off and the room is dark and everything is quiet.

“Yes Harry?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. Do I turn the lights back on?”

Harry thinks on it, “no. I think this might be easier in the dark.”

“Are you alright?” Severus’ tone goes straight to worried.

“I’m fine, I promise,” Harry takes Severus’ hand to prove it and squeezes briefly.

Severus interlaces their fingers and squeezes back.

“So, I was wondering,” Harry says, trying to keep his voice even. “Whataboutsex?”

“You’ll have to speak slower,” Severus still sounds worried and that wasn’t his intention at all.

“What about sex?” Harry manages, feeling the urge to cover his face even though the room is completely dark.

“Come here,” Severus pleads, “let me hold you.”

Harry shuffles closer and Severus wraps his arms around him.

“I have books on this, they’re in my quarters in the dungeons, feel free to borrow any. That way you can get structured information. Some things can only be discovered by trying.”

“I mean for us,” Harry wheezes. Why is this so stressful?

“Whatever we want, no limits exist as long as we are both eager.”

“What do you want?” He pulls his knees up and lies curled up in Severus’ arms.

“I don’t know how to answer that question, Harry. I want to be close to you in all ways, I’ve told you that.”

“I’m not sure what I’m asking,” Harry confesses into the dark. “I’ve no idea where to even begin with this.”

“Beginning is easy,” Severus tells him, squeezing him tight. “You do exactly what you feel like, while talking to the person you’re doing it with about it. You respect their wishes and speak the truth about your own.”

Harry wraps one leg around Severus, pulling them closer together. “You make me feel so safe and understood.”

“I’m very glad to hear that,” Severus kisses his forehead.

“Do I make you feel like that too?”

“You do, you always do,” Severus whispers. “I’ve not received much uncomplicated affection in my life but you give it so freely.”

“Severus,” Harry’s throat feels tight. “I’m...” He swallows. Tries again. “I’m hard.”

“Me too,” Severus tells him quietly. Knowing this makes Harry even more hard.

“Would it be alright if I... If I did something about it?”

“Absolutely,” Harry hears Severus’ voice isn’t quite as it normally is either. He slips his hand into the silk pyjama trousers. He is wearing pants underneath and they’re in his way. If he were alone he’d take his pants and trousers off. Instead he tries to slide his hand up and down as he normally does. He lets out an embarrassingly loud moan at the relief of finally touching himself. When he slaps his hand over his mouth, Severus takes the hand away.

“No need to be quiet.” He sounds hoarse, like it hurts to talk. Harry lets his now free hand slide into his pants too. He begins playing with his balls and it feels so good that he arches his back and pushes up his hips.

“What do you want? Right now?” He asks and Severus chuckles softly. 

“I want to listen to you, here in the dark. Hear you come, smell it. I also want to do a million other things.”

“Could you... tell me about them?” Harry pushes his hips up again and slows down his hand.

“I want to turn on the lights and look at you,” Severus whispers, “undress you, touch you all over.”

Harry turns his head so their noses are touching. “What else?”

“Lick every inch of your skin. Be inside you as you come, taste you as you come, look at you.”

“Severus,” Harry is very close now, “can I kiss you while I come?”

In response, Severus rests long fingers under Harry’s chin and kisses him firmly. Harry speeds up his movements and comes moaning into Severus’ mouth, feet digging into the mattress. He pants and shivers as he comes back down, slowly moving his hand from his pants.

Severus keeps touching his face, then whispers a cleaning spell that doesn’t hurt at all.

“You’ll have to teach me that,” Harry mumbles.

“I will,” Severus whispers back. Harry cups his face.

“Are you still... Should I?”

“I am, and no. There is no should.”

“Won’t it...” Harry sighs, tries to think words, “hurt?”

“If it does,” Severus' cheeks heat under Harry’s palm, “I’ll.”

“Alright,” Harry kisses Severus one more time. Severus gently plays with Harry’s hair and Harry falls asleep easily.

 

The next day he finds out Voldemort wants something from Gregorovitch and that a boy stole it. It’s all very confusing and he’d much rather focus on fun things.

  

They all settle into their routine easily enough. During the day Hermione and Harry read up on Horcruxes and chase down people that might know more, books that might have more information, Severus tries to do his job but in secret, and Ron attends classes. At night, they meet in Harry and Hermione’s sitting room where they do homework, study, read, do paperwork, and plot together. They thank the house-elves for helping them with the no-unforgivables plot at every turn. The Carrows are awful but at least they’re not creative enough to think of ways to hurt children beyond Cruciatus. Professor McGonagall does such a marvellous job of glaring at Severus when everyone else keeps their heads down that they decide not to tell her the truth just yet.

  

“Halloween,” Ron says one night. “You-Know-Who will go for Halloween if we pass him that rumour about Harry being somewhere now. He’ll think it a good omen.”

“I agree,” Severus says from his favourite chair by the fire. “Do we want that?” 

“We still haven’t figured out what else professor Dumbledore wanted us to know.”

“What do we not know?” Ron says, standing up. He hands Hermione a stretch of parchment so she can take notes.

“Beedle the Bard, the Snitch,” Harry thinks out loud.

“We have the mystery of whatever the Dark Lord wants too,” Severus adds.

“They could be the same thing,” Ron suggests. “Severus, could you look at the book for us?”

“Sure, but I’ve read the story."

Hermione grabs the book from her room and hands it over. “Maybe you’ll see something we missed.”

“Why is the symbol for the Deathly Hallows here?” Severus asks, having flipped straight to the Tale of the Three Brothers.

“The symbol for the Deathly Hallows?”

“Yes, this one,” Severus taps the page, “I have a book on symbolism that I saw it in before. It seems to have been added. Actually...” 

Harry walks over to look at it, “that’s the symbol that’s on my vaults.”

“It is,” Severus nods. “And you have a Cloak of Invisibility.” 

“Maybe Dumbledore wanted to tell us they’re real?” Harry offers. “The Peverells were from Godric’s Hollow, I might be related to them.”

“Who has the other two then?” Ron asks, “actually, Severus, why did you go straight to the Tale of the Three Brothers?”

“Gellert Grindelwald and professor Dumbledore were friends until Grindelwald became too extreme, and Dumbledore defeated him. It is said he was obsessed with becoming the Master of Death, which is to have all three items, but if he looked for and found the wand, and Dumbledore defeated him...”

“Then the answer to both my questions is the same." Ron finishes. "Dumbledore.”

“What of the stone?” Harry asks.

“We know of a stone that has the power to make even professor Dumbledore make mistakes.”

“Maybe that’s what’s in the Snitch,” Ron offers. “That cursed stone.”

“I should hope the curse is gone by now, it took us ages to figure out,” Severus adds, frowning.

“Eventually Tom will figure this out. He’ll come here and take the wand,” Hermione looks up from her notes as she says it. “We need to decide if we want to prevent that.”

“I’ll take any advantage and being the Master of Death sounds like it might be one.”

“We have no way of knowing, and we don’t want to be there when You-Know-Who finds out someone got there first. We also don’t know if you become the master of the wand by simply holding it, some things have to be won,” Ron reminds them. 

“Alright,” Hermione looks through the notes. “We don’t know what Tom wants, we don’t know what Dumbledore wanted us to figure out with the Snitch and the book. We do know that Dumbledore and Grindelwald were obsessed with the Hallows, and that they thought they were real. We also know Tom’s wand doesn’t work against Harry’s.”

“I open at the close has to have something to do with death, he thought you’d have to die.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t about being the Master of Death, perhaps he just wanted to offer you some comfort by letting you call forth your parents.”

“Guys,” Harry stops Ron and Hermione, “when do we decide that we won’t find another way to get this Horcrux out?” 

“ _Harry_...” Severus looks at him. " _Harry, you're so young._ "

“No." Harry looks at Severus but he speaks English so the others can understand too. "We’re trying to find another way, but we’re going to have to assume I’ll survive Tom casting the Killing Curse at me. I want this over with as soon as possible. Before he finds whatever he's looking for, whether it’s in Dumbledore’s tomb or not, before he finds out we destroyed his Horcruxes. Halloween is good, now when do we need to start floating the location?”

“Two weeks,” Severus says, face pale and shut. “Two weeks in advance.”

“Alright, the 15th of October. Where do we tell him I’ve been hiding?”

“Riddle House?” Ron suggests, “he knows you know where it is, and no one ever goes there.”

“I’ll start popping over to disturb the wards so it seems plausible I’ve been staying there for a while.”

“What will we say the rumour is?” Hermione asks.

“Riddle. Severus tells him people have been gossiping about someone named Tom Riddle and that you’ve been staying at his house.”

“That could work,” Severus tells Ron, “perhaps we should actually spread the rumour, so that it can make its way back to the Dark Lord through other ways too.” 

“Good one,” Ron smiles, “but we’ll start that after the 15th, so that you’re the first.”

“Wonderful,” Hermione says, “now I think it’s almost time for Potterwatch.”

 

“Harry,” Hermione asks one night as they’re both nursing their second glass of wine. Ron and Severus just left and they’re going to be off to bed soon.

“Hermione.”

“Can I ask you a sex question?”

Harry sits up, blushing already, “I'm not a man-expert.”

“As if Severus would let get anywhere near any penis without making sure you were well informed.”

“I’ll have you know I’ve had a penis for longer than I’ve known Severus,” Harry huffs.

Hermione laughs at him, “and you had your first lecture on consent when?”

“When did that thing with Samantha happen?”

“Samantha Wilkes and the love potion? I’d forgotten about that,” Hermione laughs more, “that was first year!”

“Alright, I was eleven. What’s up?”

“Just been musing on what it means to be ‘ready’.”

“Tough one, that is,” Harry drains his glass. “Don’t want to make the one that is ready first feel like they can’t ask for or say what they want, don’t want to make the one that isn’t feel pressured.”

“Exactly.”

“Where has your musing taken you?”

“I think it’s important to establish space to talk about things, to deal with the awkwardness of saying it out loud, to make it obvious that just because I want something doesn’t mean I need to do it now or ever.”

“I think you’re doing really well then,” Harry stands up and squeezes her hand briefly as he walks past her. “Don’t forget that the world isn’t ending and we’re all going to live long, happy lives. There’s time.”

“Harry,” Hermione whispers, when Harry has reached the door to his room. “Have you?”

“Mostly kissing, not all the way,” Harry whispers back. “You?”

“Last night,” Hermione tells him. He can hear from her voice that she’s blushing. “Act like you didn’t know when he tells you?”

“Of course. I’m happy for you both ‘Mione.”

“Goodnight Harry.”

“Night.”


	15. Year 7 - Purple and Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Two weeks,” Severus says, face pale and shut. “Two weeks in advance.”
> 
> “Alright, the 15th of October. Where do we tell him I’ve been hiding?”
> 
> “Riddle House?” Ron suggests, “he knows you know where it is, and no one ever goes there.”
> 
> “I’ll start popping over to disturb the wards so it seems plausible I’ve been staying there for a while.”
> 
> “What will we say the rumour is?” Hermione asks.
> 
> “Riddle. Severus tells him people have been gossiping about someone named Tom Riddle and that you’ve been staying at his house.”
> 
> “That could work,” Severus tells Ron, “perhaps we should actually spread the rumour, so that it can make its way back to the Dark Lord through other ways too.” 
> 
> “Good one,” Ron smiles, “but we’ll start that after the 15th, so that you’re the first.”
> 
> “Wonderful,” Hermione says, “now I think it’s almost time for Potterwatch.”

“Hey,” Harry whispers into the dark a couple of nights later, “I had a nightmare, can I sleep here?”

Harry has been sleeping in Severus’ bed about once a week. Severus is often too busy to come over in the evening for more than a short while, but when they both have time they spend the night together.

Severus hums, throwing open the sheets to let Harry in. When Harry moves in, Severus wraps his arms around him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Same as always,” Harry tells him. “The boy, Gregorovitch. Obsessive snake. I can easily step out of the dreams but a part of me is curious where it’ll go.”

“I miss spending time with our snakes,” Severus confesses. “I only see them when they need feeding these days.”

“Why don’t you move them up here?”

“Don’t want them to be a target. If no one knows, no one can hurt them.”

“Where do they stay in summer?”

“The cottage. I have built a greenhouse there, so they’re comfortable. They love the space. I’m hoping having the snakes there will keep you from introducing any fire-breathing animals into our home.”

Harry huffs but snuggles closer and kisses Severus’ neck. As if he would ever be careless enough to think he could keep a dragon after the Hagrid fiasco. It feels nice, the slight stubble under his lips, the pulse of Severus’ heartbeat. He kisses a little lower and Severus opens the top button of the pyjama shirt he’s wearing. Harry leans back.

“No?” Severus asks.

“Just surprised,” Harry tells him, and he keeps kissing. He makes his way back up to Severus’ lips and licks at them until Severus laughs and kisses him back. Harry rolls onto his back, pulling Severus with him, and wraps his arms around Severus’ neck.

“What do you want?” Severus asks him, kissing Harry’s ear. Harry shivers deeply.

“Kissing,” Harry hisses, “and...”

“And what?” Severus teases him, sucking on his earlobe, tracing the edge of Harry’s ear with his tongue. It’s almost too much, Harry has to keep himself from moving away. Struggles against the mattress.

“Maybe come,” Harry whispers, his face hot.

“I could talk to you while you touch yourself,” Severus whispers back. Harry thinks that would be a very good idea.

“What do you want?”

Severus hums, changing to kiss Harry’s other ear. He shifts his weight so Harry can still breathe but Severus is covering Harry almost completely now. “To feel you.”

“H-how?” Harry wriggles in frustration at the licking of his ear, it makes his entire body feel like it’s on fire.

“Like this,” Severus says, lowering himself onto Harry. Harry can feel how hard Severus is against his leg, and when he moves his hips, he pushes into Severus’ thigh. It’s so good he can’t breathe.

“Would that,” Severus licks his ear again, “be alright?”

“Oh yes,” Harry hisses, fluttering his hands around uselessly, moving them from Severus’ back to his own hair, grabbing onto the pillow.

Severus sits up a little and grabs his hands, holding them down on the mattress above Harry’ pillow with one hand while using the other to steady Harry’s head while he keeps kissing him. “How’s this?”

“Perfect, it’s perfect,” Harry pants, straining against Severus’ grip, against his thigh, struggling to move away from Severus’ tongue and move closer at the same time. He starts moving his hips.

“I could do this anywhere, you know,” Severus tells him in between licking, and suddenly it’s as if he is doing it everywhere. Harry can imagine what it would feel like to have his nipples licked like that, to have his belly button receive that sort of attention, to have... Oh Merlin.

“Even?” It’s all he can say. He moves his hips faster and there’s only Severus, only shallow breaths into lungs that can’t fully expand under the weight, being pinned down and safe and vulnerable.

 _“Anywhere,”_ Severus promises, and Harry comes, rolling his hips against Severus’ thigh, perfect friction perfect pressure.

Severus kisses his face gently as Harry struggles to breathe. He keeps his arms pinned over his head until Harry pulls at them. Wrapping his arms around Severus, he sighs deeply.

“Do you want to?” He manages when he comes back to himself a little more. Severus shakes his head, then moves to roll off, but Harry holds him close.

“Want to feel you,” he mumbles against a shoulder. Severus settles down. He’s heavy but it’s good. _Good heavy_ , Harry thinks, falling asleep.

 

The 15th Severus calls a meeting with Voldemort and Ron tells Ginny that he’s heard from Harry, that he’s still staying at the Riddle House, that he’s safe even if none of them know where the Riddle House is. Severus gets summoned while he’s at dinner and leaves immediately. Ginny tells her friends, and by curfew all of the HD know.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione spend the evening working on an essay Ron has to write for potions. Hermione has been sitting in on the classes Ron doesn’t take in the invisibility cloak and Ron has gotten very good at taking notes that Hermione doesn’t complain about. It’s late when Ron sneaks back to the dorm, they’re lucky he’s still a Prefect and therefore allowed to be out after curfew. Harry goes to his own bed but can’t sleep. Not even wearing silk pyjamas stolen from Severus help him fall asleep. When he’s tired of tossing and turning, he decides to go check if Severus has made it back yet.

“Severus? Are you here?” He calls softly.

The sheets rustle. “I didn’t expect you tonight.”

“If you’d rather I sleep downstairs...” Harry begins, but Severus cuts him off.

“That’s not it, I’ll just have to put something on.”

Harry freezes. “You’re _naked_?” His voice sounds much less mature and adult than he’d like. Severus huffs and rolls onto his back. Only his face is above the sheets and Harry can feel dark eyes staring at him even though there’s no lights on and the fire is nothing more than embers.

“I’m allowed to sleep naked.”

“Not what I meant,” Harry walks closer and climbs onto the bed, sitting on Severus’ legs, knees on either side.

“What’d you mean then?” Severus leans up to give Harry a kiss. Harry decides he likes this, sleepy Severus, naked Severus, being hard in borrowed pyjamas.

“Surprised, that’s all,” he mumbles, pushing Severus down while he kisses back. Severus laughs.

“Good surprised?”

Harry hums at him, already hot and embarrassed. Kissing is easier. Severus wriggles his hands free from the sheets and places them on Harry’s thighs.

“That ok?” Harry nods into the kiss, placing his hands on Severus’ jaw. He slowly trails them down, petting soft skin with his thumbs. He touches Severus’ collarbones and feels him shiver. He’s both irritated and glad that the duvet is so thick.

“What do you want?” He whispers in between kissing.

“Entirely inappropriate things,” Severus promises.

“Will you tell me about them?” Harry asks, folding the duvet down so he can see Severus’ narrow chest. His eyes are accustomed to the light by now, he sees pale skin against white sheets, dark nipples, too many scars. He trails the scars with his fingers.

“That feels nice,” Severus shifts his hips and Harry feels just a little smug. “If you’d like you could use your mouth.”

 _What an idea_ , Harry thinks, kissing Severus’ sternum, licking gently at a nipple, then the other. Severus groans.

“Talk to me? Of entirely inappropriate things?”

“There’s a difference,” Severus says, playing with Harry’s hair with one hand while the other stays on his thigh, “between fantasy and what we want.”

Harry hums around a nipple and Severus makes a choking noise. Harry lifts off a little to talk. “Like how I think of ripping off the duvet and turning on the lights but I don’t. I don’t even ask if it’d be alright with you because it’s fantasy.”

“Exactly. That.”

“So tell me fantasy,” Harry changes nipples again.

“You could, you know,” Severus pants, his voice is dark and low, “rip off the duvet, do what you’re doing with your tongue all over.”

Harry shivers and licks at Severus’ Adam’s apple. Severus’ tilts his head back to give him better access.

“I’m naked,” he says, “you could take of your clothes, we could do what we did the other night, you riding my thigh. But naked.”

Harry folds the duvet down a little lower, looking at Severus’ face for permission. Severus nods. Harry holds his waist, licks his ribs, then kisses his way up Severus’ side.

“I showered, just now,” Severus tells him. Harry pushes his nose into Severus’ armpit. “You could join me in the shower. In the bath, we could be naked and wet and soapy.”

Harry is so hard now that it’s starting to hurt. He palms at his straining cock through the silk pyjama trousers and folds down lower to bite at Severus’ shoulder. The position leaves his palming hand touching Severus.

“That feels really good. If you take away your hand and roll your hips just there, I could come from that.”

Harry stops moving. “Was that fantasy?”

“Yes,” Severus says, “and permission.”

Harry moves his hand away again, shifts his hip so they’re better aligned and touching through the duvet. He moans as they kiss, but it’s not enough. He wants more.

“Severus,” he pants, “can I get under the duvet too?”

“Is that what you want?”

Harry sits up and nods. Severus opens up the duvet and Harry slides in. He snuggles closer like he normally does, but under his hands is Severus’ naked back. Harry slides in closer still, for once not trying to hide how hard he is.

“Would you lie on top of me?” Harry asks, and Severus rolls them over. It feels divine, especially when he starts moving. Severus kisses his face, his neck, sucks on his lips. Harry grabs onto Severus’ back, sliding down his hands until he’s cupping his arse.

“Going to...” Harry pants, “slow down.”

“Are you alright?” Severus whispers, and Harry pushes up his hips.

“More than,” he promises, “want you to come too.”

Severus huffs into his neck. “I don’t have to, you know. We both like this, that is enough. If one of us doesn’t have an orgasm, or even if neither of us does, it’s still sex. It still feels good.”

“I know, I read that book too.”

Severus laughs and Harry kisses him to feel the laugh properly, to taste it. “I’m worried about pushing you.”

“I know,” Harry kisses down from Severus’ mouth, along his jaw. He rolls them both over so Severus is on his back. Harry kisses Severus’ chin, his throat, his chest. He sits up, between Severus’ legs, and touches him where he can reach. Soft hairs on his arms and legs, thick hair around his groin, almost no hair on his chest. He’s known for a while that Severus doesn’t need to shave often.

“Once you believe that I won’t do anything I don’t want to, will you ask me for what you want?”

Severus arches his back and groans. Harry is staring at Severus’ cock, hard and straining and just a little wet. He touches it carefully.

“I’ll beg for it, when...” Severus promises, and Harry quite likes the idea of begging, so he squeezes. As Severus groans and pants and wriggles, he starts moving his hand up and down. A little faster when Severus lets out a long, hissed breath, a little gentler when his face scrunches.

“You’re so beautiful,” Harry tells him, suddenly overwhelmed. Severus’ eyes fly open. “So beautiful,” Harry says again. “I can barely look, I feel like I’m staring into the sun, when you’re squinting because it’s too bright. You’re too bright to look at. So beautiful, so strong.”

Severus looks at him, stills, like he’s suddenly remembered where he is, what he’s doing. “No, no,” Harry whispers, “close your eyes, feel my hands.”

He uses his free hand to pick up one of Severus’ legs by the knee and kisses the inside softly, never stops moving the other hand. “You taste so good, look so good, sound so good.”

Severus groans and arches and lifts his hips off the bed as he comes, and Harry stares in fascination. He watches Severus come, his muscles clenching, his cock moving, the come landing on Harry’s hand, on Severus’ stomach. Harry places his hand in the mess on Severus’ stomach carefully, feeling his breathing. He trails his fingers through the sticky mess and contemplates tasting it when he catches Severus looking at him. Suddenly shy, he whispers the cleaning spell.

Long fingers wrap around his biceps and pull him down, strong arms wrap around him. Harry’s eyes burn. He wants this so much it hurts and Voldemort wants to kill them both. Will want to kill Severus when he finds out. He tries to focus on the feeling of being here and being safe, but it’s hard and his mind is all over the place.

“You’re leaking thoughts,” Severus whispers. _Make it stop then_ , Harry begs him in his mind, and he gets pushed onto his back.

Severus kisses him, quietly undoing the buttons on the silk pyjamas that are way too big on Harry still. He pauses to look up, to ask for permission to keep going, and Harry nods.

“Is this alright?” Severus asks, pushing open the shirt, licking Harry’s belly button until Harry wants to cry.

“It is,” Harry pants. “So good.”

Severus sits back on his heels. “Would you take off your pyjama trousers for me?”

“I’m not...” Harry blushes and squirms, “I’m naked underneath.”

Severus looks at him, so fond, so warm, very naked, and tilts his head. “If you hadn’t been I’d have asked you to take off your pants too.”

“Oh,” Harry sighs, and pushes down the trousers, lifts up his legs to pull them all the way off. Severus tosses them off the bed. He feels exposed and vulnerable and achingly eager. The way Severus looks at him makes his stomach clench, the last of the flush on Severus’ chest makes his cock twitch.

Severus picks up one of Harry’s legs and kisses his way from his ankle to his thigh. “May I?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Harry hisses, “ _please_.”

Severus is careful and gentle when he touches his lips to Harry’s balls, licks his way up his cock, kisses the tip.

“Severus,” Harry groans, “I’m so close.”

Severus closes his mouth around Harry’s cock and it’s _hot_ and _wet_ and _tight_ and Harry comes, careful about his movements to not hurt Severus, holding on to the sheets so tight that his hands hurt when he finally uncurls them. Severus’ head is lying on Harry’s stomach and they’re breathing together quietly. Harry plays with Severus’ hair, touching his ear gently, trailing a finger down his nose, tracing his jaw. They fall asleep like that, Harry sprawled out and holding Severus’ head, Severus curled up between his legs, hands around Harry’s thighs.

 

Regulus comes running into his portrait one night. Harry and Hermione had put it up there at the beginning of the semester, so he could have a bit of company.

“I’ve been,” he pants, “talking to the older portraits.”

“How are you panting?” Hermione asks, “do you even have lungs?”

“Can we not – not right now,” Regulus lets himself fall into the fancy chair in his painting. “Don’t feel like philosophy.”

“What’d the older portraits say?” Harry starts packing away the Ancient Runes homework he was working on.

“Well they don’t often wake up, the spells fade you see. But I managed to get Magenta Black to talk to me.”

“What’d she say?” Ron urges.

“Took me ages! Let me tell my story!”

They all nod and Regulus huffs but continues, he’s not fourteen in this painting but he’s barely nineteen and absolutely a spoiled brat. “She was a big researcher on spells and their origins, and she says that Avada Kedavra separates the soul from the body. It’s how it kills.”

“If that’s how it works, why don’t Dementors kill instantly?”

“Dementors kill instantly when they actually suck a soul out properly. They just need to be given the time.”

“Interesting,” Hermione thinks out loud. “That’s good news then, for Harry.”

“I’ve been trying to identify which parts of me are Tom and which parts are me. I haven’t been very successful but maybe if I manage I can push the Tom bits forward.”

“Let’s hope so,” Ron nods. He seems nervous, as does Hermione, but neither of them has said anything about changing the plan. Even though there’s no HD this year, they’ve been practicing in the Transfiguration classroom during meal times to stay on top of their duelling and reflexes. It’s the only time that anything feels normal, the rest of the time the air hums with nervous anticipation. It’s only a week until Halloween now.

“Magenta said she’d visit her other paintings and see if there’s anyone useful still around.”

“We’ll take what we can get. Thank you for your effort Regulus.”

 

That night, Harry is already in Severus’ bed when he comes back to his quarters. Harry tells him about Regulus while Severus changes and gets ready for bed.

“Harry James Potter. Did you forget you’ve actually been attacked by a Dementor before?”

Harry gasps and falls back into the pillow with a huff. “Why can I still see the visions then?”

Severus leans forward, touches lips to Harry’s forehead. “How’ve you been trying to find out what part of you is the Dark Lord?”

“Well,” Harry thinks on how to explain it. “Meditation I guess. Like clearing my mind, but I try to focus on my soul instead.”

“How do you find your soul?”

“That part’s easy, my soul is connected to yours, so I just dive into thinking about you and then through to the bond I find myself.”

Severus rolls onto his back and tenses up all the way, taking shallow breaths.

“Oh no,” Harry slides closer to Severus, “we’ve talked about this before, this is not the moment to panic about us being bonded.”

He slips his arm under Severus’ neck and pulls him close against his chest, so Severus’ breaths puff against his shirt.

“The hard part is figuring out what part of me isn’t me, because he’s been with me for so long.”

He pets Severus hair and sighs happily when two arms close around his waist. “Come see, help me figure it out,” he tells Severus, thinking of what it looks like when he meditates on what’s him and what isn’t. He feels Severus slip into his thoughts, relax into his arms as he focuses on that instead. Severus starts poking around the memory of it a little, turning it around to examine it from different angles. He huffs as he comes up.

“What?” Harry asks.

“You’ve discovered your Animagus form without even intending to,” Severus grins. “That’s funny.”

“How?”

“The first step is to find out what animal you are, or should be, then comes understanding it, like all transfiguration, then you become it. By meditating on who you are, you’ve completed the first step.”

“What am I?”

“A crow. Like me.”

Harry beams at Severus, “help me figure out the next step so we can fly together?”

“I promise,” Severus whispers against his lips. “Now back in?”

Harry nods and lets Severus in again. Focuses on the feeling of Severus in his mind, then follows it down to his soul. It’s a feeling more than something he can see, and Severus lets out a soft sound of surprise.

 _This is all you,_ Severus’ voice sounds in his head, _I’m connected here, that’s me._ He can see their connection easily, deep green and purple and bright, can feel Severus in the connection, the same way he can feel Severus when he’s near. _There isn’t anyone else in here_ , Severus’ voice sounds, _but there’s the last thread of a bond, here._ Harry follows the direction Severus pushes him in and finds something that feels empty but not foreign, connected to it is thoughts of Gregorovitch, the snake, the imprint of where there was once a woman screaming in green light.

 _Out._ Harry demands and they both catch their breath sitting on the bed.

“Seems that Dementor attack had some unintended consequences,” Harry says drily. And then laugh-sobs when Severus wraps long arms around him in a crushing hug, flattens him against the sheets. They hang onto each other.

“It’s his nightmare I’ve been having. Of my mum dying. Because it’s when he died.”

“Probably his _worst_ nightmare,” Severus manages, “to die again.”

“We’ll face him together. Team Gold. I’ll be Master of Death and we’ll kill him.”

Severus laughs, but when Harry touches his face his cheeks feel wet. He kisses Severus sloppily, and cries too when Severus starts sobbing harsh and wet.

“We’re all going to live,” Harry promises through tears, “and Tom Riddle will be dead, and we’ll get to worry about things like what we’ll do with our lives after NEWTs.”

“I’d like to be a real headmaster,” Severus whispers, like the truth is too much to say out loud, even in the dark bedroom. “Make real changes that help children.”

“I want to be a real Defence teacher,” Harry whispers back, “I’ve never loved doing anything as much as Hogwarts’ Defenders.”

“I want to be married to you,” Severus cries into Harry’s shirt, it sings with the truth, comes from so deep within that the room seems to shake. And Harry holds on tight.

“Me too, me too, me too,” he whispers.

 


	16. Year 7 - Riddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re all going to live,” Harry promises through tears, “and Tom Riddle will be dead, and we’ll get to worry about things like what we’ll do with our lives after NEWTs.”
> 
> “I’d like to be a real headmaster,” Severus whispers, like the truth is too much to say out loud, even in the dark bedroom. “Make real changes that help children.”
> 
> “I want to be a real Defence teacher,” Harry whispers back, “I’ve never loved doing anything as much as Hogwarts’ Defenders.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this one took so long. I'm a bit busy with school and work and volunteering atm (and worrying that you wouldn't like how I've done this one maybe).
> 
> Hope it was worth the wait!

Harry moves into the Riddle House two days before Halloween. He brings enough food to last and explores every nook and cranny of the building. It’s big but disappointingly Muggle so there are hardly any secret passages. Harry reads, cleans the house a bit, using magic just to spite Petunia. He practices with his new wand, using it to clean and cook feels a little blasphemous, but it helps him figure out how it feels. As the 30th becomes the 31st, Ron, Hermione, and Severus arrive. They all sleep in their clothes on a conjured mattress in the living room. That is – Ron and Hermione sleep. Severus and Harry lie tangled together, shifting only in an attempt to get even closer.

“You should sleep,” Severus whispers as the clock in the village lets out another single tone. Three in the morning.

“So should you,” Harry whispers back, concentrated on kissing Severus all over his face. Small little things. It makes his eyelashes flutter in the most endearing way.

“I’m worried.”

Harry keeps kissing. “Me too, but we’ll win.”

Severus lets out a high pitches whine. “How can you say that?”

“I’m a rebel,” Harry promises, “and optimism is a great act of rebellion – I expect things to change.”

“All the people that love you, all the ones that loved you.” Severus grabs his face in both his hands, “you’re the best of them.”

Harry buries his face in Severus’ chest and manages to sleep a little after that.

 

The next day, Harry shows them around the house, and they read and clean together. It seems stupid to clean the house, but it’s something they’re all familiar with at least. Harry shares the Halloween chocolates with Hermione and Ron. Ron and Severus play chess for the first time and enjoy having a challenging opponent for once so much that they play three more games. Harry cooks them a very elaborate lunch. None of them eat.

 

By the time night falls, Harry waits in his chair, staring at the door Voldemort will be coming through. Any moment now, he can feel it.

Everything goes according to plan at first. Voldemort knocks, then blasts the door down. Harry waits in his chair, staring at the door, while Voldemort walks through the house. He is terrified but surrounded by his parents, Euphemia and his other grandparents, by murmurs of _proud_ and _strong_ and _love_. Hermione and Ron are hidden in the shadows behind him. Severus is waiting on the stairs, Disillusioned, to chop Nagini’s head off. Voldemort strides in, giving some monologue about parallels. Harry tells him he destroyed the locket, the diadem, the cup, the diary. They hear the Sword of Gryffindor goes _swoosh_.

Harry thinks of nothing but Severus and Hermione and Ron and all the people that are with him, in spirit if not physically. His Avada Kedavra rings loud and clear, two green blasts join his from the edges of the room. A single stream of light hits Voldemort’s chest, he falls backwards like it’s nothing. Crumbles into a heap.

Stumbling with sudden exhaustion, all Harry can think about is Severus. He makes his way into the hallway where Nagini is on the floor in two pieces. Severus is lying next to her and there is blood everywhere. Too much blood.

Harry is by Severus’ side in less than a second, wrapping the wound on his neck with his hand, whispering healing spells with the Elder Wand. He cries for Ron and Hermione. Death’s own wand has nothing on holly, he thinks, tossing the wand away, finding the pouch on his belt. He chants in whispers and shouts, and Hermione pours dittany over his hand, while Ron summons blood replenishers, a calming draught, more dittany. Infinite pouches provide, and they manage to stop the bleeding. Severus breathes shallowly, his eyes are on Harry. Black.

“To Hogwarts,” Harry decides. He conjures a stretcher, levitates Severus in, and Apparates straight to the gates. He pulls the cloak from his pocket and throws it over Severus, while running in the direction of the castle. Hermione and Ron are right behind him. They step into the Entrance Hall and the feast is still going on. _Nobody knows_ , Harry thinks. 

“We’ll get Madame Pomfrey,” Hermione promises, “take him upstairs.”

Harry nods and walks up the stairs, straight through to the room that Severus was in a million years ago, when Voldemort had just returned, when Harry had been in Little Hangleton for the first time.

He manages to get Severus into the bed, then sinks down on the chair next to it. Madame Pomfrey bursts in and starts asking questions, summoning vials and potions and having a quill take notes on the side. Hermione transfigures the chair into a sofa, and Ron and she plop down next to Harry. They each grab one of his hands.

Covered in blood, hanging on to each other like it’s the only way they’ll live, they stare at Madame Pomfrey. She’s working quietly now, and there is an eerie silence in the room until Ron’s stomach growls. Harry barks out a laugh, then bursts into tears. It’s too much, the stress, the relief, the worry, all too much. He cries into Hermione’s neck while Ron goes to fetch them food and professor McGonagall. Madame Pomfrey conjures a chair and sits opposite Harry and Hermione. 

“You’ll tell me everything now.”

“Can we wait until professor McGonagall gets here?” Hermione asks, “it’s a bit of a story.”

“Just tell me what I need to know to heal him,” Pomfrey tells them, “he’ll live, but I’d like to make sure there is no permanent damage.”

“Nagini’s a common adder, but somehow she was like 3 meters long. Strongest anti venin you have to prevent necrosis and keep an eye on his blood clotting,” Harry tells his hands.

“I’ll go find her head,” Hermione promises, “if Severus doesn’t already have a specific anti venin we can make one.”

Harry nods numbly, but Madame Pomfrey whips her head around. “That’s professor Snape for you, young lady,” she hisses, and Hermione cackles. Maybe it’s too much for her too.

The door slams open and professor McGonagall walks in, saving Hermione the talking to of the century.

Professor McGonagall looks at the blood, the mess, the food Ron must’ve gone to fetch before finding her and conjures another chair. 

“From the beginning please,” she says. Harry shoots a pleading look at Hermione, who starts talking, and walks over to the bed carefully. Severus feels normal, his pulse is strong, so Harry crawls into the hospital bed with him, kicking off his shoes. Madame Pomfrey and McGonagall have their backs towards him, and Ron has finished stuffing his face. The four of them are deep in conversation. Harry closes his eyes and smells Severus, and blood, and sweat. He listens to the steady beating of Severus’ heart and focuses on flying, flying, flying. 

“What is all this about?” McGonagall is loud, her voice is sharp. Harry pulls a face.

“Really worried about him,” Harry tells her. He feels completely drained and sighs gratefully when Madame Pomfrey covers them both with another blanket and turns off the lights.

“They’ll need sleep, Minerva,” she says softly, pushing a sputtering McGonagall to the door. “Go deal with Kingsley.”

Ron and Hermione are curled up together on the sofa, and Harry is so grateful that everyone he loves likes this is here where he can see them. Hear them breathing.

 

“Must’ve seen the bond,” Hermione whispers, “there’s spells for that.” Harry opens his eyes. He smells hospital wing, hears Severus’ soft snoring. Ron and Hermione are looking blurry but cheerful, they seem to be clean and wearing fresh clothes. It’s light outside. Harry looks at himself, he’s in hospital pyjamas, then at Severus, who’s dressed the same way.

“Hey,” Harry croaks. “Can you fill me in?”

Hermione walks over and hands him his glasses. “It’s Saturday, the day after Halloween, almost lunch time. Professor McGonagall told Auror Shacklebolt everything yesterday, and they picked up the body soon after. The Death Eaters are pretending they were under the Imperius curse and Daily Prophet has an article detailing your victory.”

“What is everything? And how did the Death Eaters know?” 

“Everything – that you were working on a task from Dumbledore with Severus to defeat Voldemort and that he found you where you were hiding. Turns out he’d performed some wicked magic that had to be undone, of which no one knows the details but you two.”

“Good,” Harry nods, pulling the plate of food someone had set on the table next to the bed closer.

“The Mark faded.”

Harry feels something happen in his chest at Hermione’s words. He wants to check immediately but feels Severus wouldn’t appreciate it. The relief becomes palpable, leaving him hollow but bright. He sinks back into the pillows. Eats his toast.

  

Harry spends the next days in bed with Severus. He doesn’t leave the room except for using the bathroom and makes Madame Pomfrey teach him how to wash Severus, how to change the sheets around him. He can’t think of anything else but clean bed, clean clothes, clean hair. Severus hasn’t woken up yet even if the wound is healing well. Hermione brings him his books from their quarters and he fails to read a single word. After two days he decides he needs to check on the snakes. He throws on his cloak and sneaks down through hidden corridors and secret passageways until he stands in Severus’ dungeon quarters barefoot in his hospital pyjamas. After feeding the snakes and having a little chat with them, he waters the plants. He grabs pencils and the notebook he used to draw plants in from Severus’ office, and walks back up after making sure he’s properly covered by the cloak.

There’s shouting when he enters the hospital wing. Severus’ voice, crackling but loud and strong: “Where. Is. He?”

He runs into the private room, steps around McGonagall and sits on Severus lap in a wink. It may have been flying. Severus grins at him, looking straight into his eyes, and lifts his hands to undo the clasp at Harry’s throat. The cloak falls open, Severus pushes it off, and Harry lets his head fall down onto Severus’ good shoulder. Arms wrap around him. He heaves one large sob in relief and feels Severus shudder. 

“Would someone please tell me what’s going on?” McGonagall says, but Madame Pomfrey steers her from the room again. “When they’re ready, dear,” she says.

Severus and Harry don’t talk, they don’t have to. Severus pets his hair, touches all his limbs in the way he does to check Harry for injuries, Harry grins at him, checks his forearm. Finds a faint outline of what might have at some point been a snake.

“Can we tell Minerva?” Severus asks.

“I’m several friends ahead of you Severus,” Harry tells him, kissing his nose over and over, “you can tell whoever you like.”

“Poppy knows.” 

“Let’s call them in,” Harry gets off of Severus’ lap and walks to the door. When he opens it, Madame Pomfrey is writing something on a sheet of parchment and professor McGonagall is pacing around the ward, tartan robes swishing. He nods his head and they follow him in, closing the door behind them. Harry sits down next to Severus on the bed, Madame Pomfrey and professor McGonagall take the sofa that’s still in the room. 

Professor McGonagall believes them, and so does Madame Pomfrey. They ask about the task Dumbledore gave Harry and are told the full story. 

“We’ve not decided whether it would be wise to let the public know about Horcruxes,” Severus finishes.

“It’s exceptionally dark magic,” McGonagall agrees, “but hiding magic has never stopped anyone from using it. It will only deter us from fighting it.”

“I find I’m of the same school of thought,” Severus nods at her. Harry can tell he’s getting tired from the unnatural straightness of his back, the lines around his mouth.

“We’ll think on it. For now, we haven’t lied and we have a great excuse for why we didn’t tell anyone. I trust professor McGonagall is being a wonderful deputy and I’m afraid it’s time for both of you to leave.” 

Madame Pomfrey laughs, and Harry notes she’s not as ancient as he’s always thought. More McGonagall’s age than Dumbledore’s. McGonagall protests a little but lets Madame Pomfrey lead her away.

“What made you wake up?” Harry whispers across the dark room when they’re staring at each other, lying on their sides, under the duvet.

“Couldn’t feel you,” Severus whispers back. “The body knows what it needs to heal, which in my case was sleep, but it also knows not to interfere with what the soul needs.”

Harry kisses him. “The snakes say hi, the plants are fine. Ask me anything when you wake back up.”

“Can I see your soul?” Severus whispers. “I want to know, please.”

Harry focuses on Severus, follows the thread down, finds himself. He keeps his eyes open so Severus can follow him in. Severus gasps when they get there. “All you. Not even a whisper of... of Voldemort.”

“All me,” Harry promises, touching Severus’ face carefully. “Now sleep.”

He watches Severus sleep for a while but doesn’t feel tired at all, so he rummages through the pile of stuff Hermione has brought over. The notebook that Severus had attempted to document Parseltongue in is among the pile. In his sleep Severus slings an arm over Harry’s legs. Harry opens the notebook and grins at the first words Severus had learned, his dawning understanding of how the language works, his attempts to write it down. He’s used a system similar to pinyin to write down the sounds and tones of each word. Harry picks up one of the pencils and starts making notes. These two are one word, used in different contexts, the tone of this one is not up-down but up-down-up. When he comes to the end of the notes Severus had taken, he tries to bring structure into the words. Severus had made an attempt at creating a script and Harry tries to structure that too. _Wouldn’t it be something if we published this together?_ Harry thinks. ‘Parseltongue for beginners’ or ‘A definitive guide to mastering Parseltongue’. Maybe ‘Becoming a Parselmouth’. He scratches on, then gets hit by a massive idea. Enormous. He puts the notebook to the side and starts sketching in the plant notebook. It takes only two hours to have a fully laid out plan. After setting his notes and thoughts aside, he falls asleep again, wrapped in Severus’ arms.

 

Severus wakes him up, looking fuzzy and vaguely angry, when it’s time for dinner. “Food is here.”

“What has you unhappy?” Harry smiles at him, kisses Severus gently.

“Everything is itchy,” Severus grumbles, sitting up. “No privacy.”

“Madame Pomfrey knocks, you know,” Harry takes the plate he’s been handed and starts eating.

“Some things I don’t want to do anywhere I didn’t place the wards.”

Harry blushes. “Are you... If you need me to step out, or guard the door, or...”

“So I can masturbate?” Severus laughs finally, gives Harry his patented _strange child_ look, turns back to his food.

Harry squirms and wriggles. Of course, Severus picks up on it. “I’m sorry, Harry, I’m not feeling well. I shouldn’t take it out on you, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Not uncomfortable, at all,” Harry mutters, throat dry. “Just didn’t expect it so soon after you woke up I guess.”

Severus grins at him, leans back into the mountain of pillows. “I’m afraid I won’t be up for anything strenuous, but it’s satisfying to know you’d be willing.”

“Eager more like,” Harry tries to keep eating. He really is hungry.

 

Severus wakes up on Monday, is moved back to the headmaster’s quarters on Tuesday, and they spend Wednesday lying in bed, too exhausted to even talk most of the time. Emotional exhaustion, Severus calls it. Which is all well and good, but they’re going on five days of not being awake for more than a few hours at a time and Harry wasn’t even bitten by a snake.

“What time is it?” Harry groans, scrubbing his face.

“Seven,” Severus answers from the sofa. “Have we been out of bed long enough to go back?”

“I haven’t even changed the sheets yet,” Harry complains, stretching out on the carpet. It’s fluffy and purple, completely hideous.

“I suppose we could be in this room for a while longer.”

“What’ll we do? When we go back out there?”

“Wish I knew,” Severus yawns. “I’m thinking of calling a staff meeting so they can ask their questions, then giving the students the opportunity to ask anything they wish for an hour or so after dinner.”

“Want me up there with you?”

“Yes, please,” Severus sinks into the sofa further, “that would help. Could you be there for the staff meeting too?”

“Of course, in the corner in my cloak or publicly so they can ask questions?”

“Come here,” Severus motions with his hand, Harry crawls over, gets kissed thoroughly. “Always seeking to ease my burdens,” he whispers, playing with Harry’s hair.

“It’s because I love you,” Harry promises him. “Other people will see you now, Severus. You’re going to be you.”

“I know,” he sighs, keeps playing with Harry’s hair, tugging wild curls, “haven’t been me in front of more than a handful of people in years. I’ll be vulnerable.”

“But you’ll be free.”

 

“Hermione,” Harry asks, on the last day they’re spending in their cosy sitting room, “is there a spell for copying books?”

“There is,” she looks at him, “but besides the violation of intellectual property, it’s really complicated.”

“It’s way too old for that to be an issue.”

“Oh in that case, you could conjure it, but its easiest to copy it into some sort of notebook. Easier still if it’s the right number of pages and a similar size or bigger.”

Harry nods and pens down a last note. They’ve been allowed back into their classes if they prove they’ve kept up with the homework. Severus signing off on it all helped too, of course. Hermione went back on the Monday after Halloween, but Harry had taken a few more days to get sorted. It’s Thursday now, and Harry and Hermione are expected to move back to the Gryffindor tower tomorrow. Harry will start classes again then too.

 

It’s strange to go back to living in the Gryffindor tower, to be a student with homework after almost five months of self-study and hiding. Professor Snape instead of Severus. At least he doesn’t have to pretend to hate him anymore. He feels completely drained all the time. Doing his homework, studying for exams, working on his project, he seems to have to drag himself from one thing to the next. He makes lists of everything he thinks about, everything he wants to do, because what if he forgets? It takes Harry a full two weeks to remember that maybe they should let the Dursleys know they can come out of hiding and Severus laughs at that for ages.

“What is my life now?” Harry sighs, flopping back onto the bed. He’s not supposed to sleep over; students and teachers aren’t allowed to. Most nights, Harry comes back to the tower just before curfew. No one knows about Severus and him, just Ron and Hermione, Madame Pomfrey and McGonagall. His dorm mates have been speculating on who his secret girlfriend that isn’t in Gryffindor might be. The guesses are ranging from Luna to some Slytherin third year that’s apparently very pretty and Muggleborn.

“Studying, passing your exams, finding someone who will take you on for a Defence Mastery.”

That too, plans for next year. Harry sighs, he can’t even find it funny. “Wouldn’t you just hire me regardless? Professor Lupin has made it very clear he won’t be staying past this year.”

“No, Chosen One, I will not be hiring you without a Mastery. Please,” Severus rolls his eyes and Harry feels the corner of his mouth twitch.

“So many things that I don’t know what to do about,” Harry groans as he stretches out.

“Like what?” Severus sits down next to him, places a hand on Harry’s stomach.

“Us,” Harry starts, “our public relations, the Hallows, the houses, finding a Master that’d take me on.”

“Us is easy, I’m content with how things are now, and you know what’s happening this summer.”

Harry hums, “will you finally tell me what you want when I next ask? Instead of the parts of what you want that you think I’m ready to hear?”

Severus shakes his head, eyes wide and scared.

“This is what I mean,” Harry waves his hand, feels his brain focus properly for what feels like the first time in days, “what has you so scared? Is what you want so dark? Is what we have so fragile? What could convince you that I’m ready to hear?”

“I’ve been,” Severus takes a deep breath, “hoping you’d stumble upon it I suppose. That you’d ask for it without me having to tell you.”

“You know how unfair that is right?” Harry isn’t actually angry but he really wants to know.

“I know, I’d be cross if you did that to me.”

“I do it to you. We’re both not used to sharing our thoughts, to presenting as a team to the outside world, to getting what we want at all.”

“Kindness,” Severus lies down and drags Harry with him so their heads are on the pillows.

“Kindness,” Harry answers, trailing his fingers along the scars on Severus’ neck, his muscles ache with exhaustion but he feels so close to Severus it’s easy to ignore.

“Do they,” Severus swallows, “bother you?” 

“Severus,” Harry sings his name, “they fill me with pride. You chopped up that snake after having been bitten, we couldn’t have won without you.”

Severus nods, and kisses Harry firmly. “I’m worried you’ll say yes to something to please me, when you’re not ready to do it. I’m worried you’ll think that me wanting something is the same as me needing something.” 

Harry kisses him back, “there are going to be things I’ll want to try and then never do again. Things that I want that you don’t, the other way around too.”

Severus nods, his cheeks are faintly pink, “how about I tell you something I want right now and then we do whatever you’re comfortable with?”

Harry squirms and nods. He’s already mostly hard. Severus wriggles closer, whispering in Harry’s ear while holding on with a slim hand, long fingers, to his hip.

“I want you to come down my throat with my fingers in your arse.”

Harry shivers and rolls Severus onto his back, kissing him deeply. “Yes. That.”

Severus grins happily, then starts unbuttoning Harry’s shirt. Harry does the same to Severus, and soon they’re both naked. It’s early, it’s weekend, they have time. It’s still light outside.

“What’s this one from?” Harry asks, touching the scar of what looks it was a deep wound on Severus’ side.

“Coffee table, fell right through,” Severus tells him, his eyes narrow. He points at himself: “Potions, potions, potions, playground accident as a kid, fell off a bike. These ones are from an earlier version of Sectumsempra, after which I learned to practice spells on dummies.”

He rolls onto his stomach, Harry touches the whip marks that scar his back. “Voldemort.”

“And this one?” Harry touches a long scar on Severus’ thigh.

“Bar fight, slashed me with his knife as I walked away,” Severus sounds muffled. Harry takes the opportunity to kiss him all over, all the scars, all the birthmarks. When Harry lifts off and taps Severus’ hip, he rolls over again. He’s hard and flushed red on his chest and throat.

“What about that was arousing?”

“Affection,” Severus mumbles. His cheeks turn red too.

Harry hums and gives Severus’ front the same attention. All the scars, all the birthmarks. Severus is panting and twitching soon enough and sits straight up when Harry puts his foot back down. He wraps a hand around Harry’s arm and pushes him onto the mattress, kissing him all over his face in genuine, painfully sweet enthusiasm. Harry wraps his arms around Severus’ neck and rolls their hips together.

“May I?” Severus asks, sitting up on his knees between Harry’s legs. Harry nods, and Severus places Harry’s feet against his shoulders, leans forward to find a pillow, puts it under Harry’s hips.

“Accio lubricant,” he says, catching the glass vial out of the air as it sails through the room. He lays it down next to Harry’s hip, and starts kissing his way up Harry’s thigh.

“Talk to me,” he says, so Harry lets his head fall back and looks at Severus through his eyelashes.

“That feels very good,” he says, “you look gorgeous like this.”

Severus licks Harry’s balls, left, then right, sucking on the skin. “You can,” Harry groans as he tries to keep track of his thoughts, “use your teeth if you want to.”

Sitting back up, Severus looks at him oddly, “just when I told you I hoped you’d stumble upon the things that I want.” He leans forward and bites Harry’s shoulder gently, “I want teeth.” Harry squirms and moans, wants Severus’ hands not to move from the back of his knees, Severus’ face not to move from his neck. At the same time, he wants absolutely nothing more than what Severus promised. He tries to tell Severus this but it comes out as panting and gasping and hissing.

“Harry,” Severus mumbles against his skin, biting his way up along the muscles of his shoulder, his neck. “Can I leave marks?”

Harry’s stomach clenches painfully and he arches his back, exposing his throat all the way. “Yes,” he babbles, “yes, yes.”

Severus moves down, kissing Harry’s chest, his stomach. Just above his hipbone, Severus sucks in the skin he was kissing and it hurts but it’s good and with a pop, Severus sits up again. The skin is already red. Severus moves down further and takes Harry into his mouth. He sucks and Harry’s hips buck up wildly, too good, too good.

“Sorry,” Harry whines. “That’s alright,” Severus soothes, kissing Harry’s inner thigh as he grabs the lube and pours some into his hand. He closes the vial and wraps his mouth around Harry again. With his index finger, he spreads a bit of the lube on the underside of Harry’s balls. It feels warm, and slick.

“Have you done this before?” Severus asks, switching to licking the head of Harry’s cock as he gets more and more lube onto Harry’s skin. Warm, nice. He rubs it in gently with a finger, passing over Harry’s arse.

“Tried,” Harry pants, very focused on warm mouth soft lips clever fingers. “Didn’t hurt.”

“But?”

“Not great.”

“It’s not supposed to hurt. Not at all. If it’s not good you’ll have to let me know.”

Harry wants no more frowning, yes more clever fingers hot sucking. “Plea-ease,” he whines, moving his hips to urge Severus on.

Severus smiles sweetly at him, looking fond and flustered and very eager. He sucks Harry down all the way and spreads the rest of the lube over his hands. Harry tries to breathe and relax but it’s too good, so much. He grabs onto the duvet, making fists. Severus touches Harry’s balls, the skin behind them, lower still, then gently rubs his arse until a finger slips in. Harry gasps and tries to keep still. Slowly moving the finger in, Severus makes eye contact to check on Harry. Harry smiles at him, then lets his head fall back again.

“Alright?” Severus asks, moving his finger in and out. Harry hums, and Severus pulls his finger all the way out.

“What?” Harry gasps, feeling betrayed and empty and _needing_. He whines as he pushes his hips back up, then groans in satisfaction as Severus places two fingers against his arse. They slip in easily and Harry breathes in deep, feeling his chest expand and stretch too. His stomach tightening, his hands twitching in the sheets. Severus licks the head of his cock, slowly works his way down, opening wide, and Harry feels _full_ as Severus’ fingers go in, in, in. He whimpers as Severus sucks and cries as he starts coming, hoarse, loud, deep.

It takes forever to catch his breath but Severus’ fingers stay in, his mouth licks him clean. He laughs tiredly as the world starts to make sense again, pulls Severus up for kissing. Hisses when Severus pulls out carefully.

“Alright?” Severus whispers against his lips. Harry hums. “What do you want?”

“More fingers,” Severus blushes, “more than fingers.”

“Not today,” Harry plays with Severus hair. “Can I do what you did?”

Severus hesitates, “I’m not against fingers...”

“But not today?” Harry finishes. Severus nods. “Biting, sucking, licking?”

Severus nods again, wildly this time. Harry pushes him onto his back. He feels energized now, humming with satisfaction. He kisses Severus’ neck gently, careful with the new skin. Makes his way to a nipple, biting it gently, Severus arches his back, holding on to Harry’s shoulders.

“Don’t worry about hurting me with your nails,” Harry whispers.

“You want it?”

“I want it,” he nods, biting Severus gently on his side as he makes his way down. He sinks his teeth into Severus’ hipbone, feels his breath hitch, legs scrabble.

“Good?”

“Harder.”

Harry shifts to the other side, bites into Severus’ thigh, right in the front. Severus makes a mewling noise, high pitched and desperate, and Harry calms him down with gentle petting hands. He kisses the inside of Severus’ thighs, playing with his balls, listening to Severus panting and moaning. “Har-ry.”

“Yes love,” Harry kisses up to just above the pubic bone and sucks hard. Severus’ nails dig into his shoulders and when he lets go, kissing the red spot, Severus’ hands flutter desperately.

“Sorry,” he whines, “sorry I scratched you.”

“Se-verus,” Harry kisses his hip crease, “I want it.”

“Alright,” Severus gasps, putting his hands back. “Alright.”

Harry licks Severus’ balls, they crinkle and tuck in. He bites the skin gently, listening for Severus’ soft moans, feeling for his fingers digging in. When Harry licks his way up to the head of Severus’ cock, he tries to savour the moment, remember the first time, enjoy the taste. There’s nothing like the noises Severus makes. Panting, gasping, moaning.

“Feels nice,” he manages, “just there.”

Harry wraps his hands around Severus’ hips, squeezing them. “Yes. There.”

Harry feels around, getting Severus’ cock wet, sucking on the head, seeing how far it goes in. He follows the rolling of Severus’ hips, tries to anticipate his movements and go along, keep up the pressure, keep up the pace. When he looks up, Severus is bright red, stomach fluttering, his hands are holding on to the headboard so tight that the muscles in his arms stand out. Harry can’t keep up at this angle, and Severus opens his eyes. Deep dark eyes, desire all over his face. Harry looks down again, focuses on what he’s doing, grabs on to Severus’ hips tighter.

“Harry,” Severus warns, “Harry.”

“Come,” Harry mumbles, “come.”

He flashes his gaze up, sees Severus’ head drop back, looks down again. Squeezing stomach, rolling hips, his neck getting sore, his arms getting tired. Worth it, for the noises Severus is making. He sucks harder and Severus’ rolling hips still. Stutter. His cock twitches and pulses and Harry’s mouth floods. It’s a bit of effort, but Harry manages to swallow without hurting Severus, without spilling. He slowly lets go of Severus’ hips, sitting up. He’s not sure how he did but Severus is a picture. A mess, flushed and sweaty and gasping for air. Long black hair everywhere, skin blotchy. Muscles twitching.

“I’m staying here tonight,” Harry decides. Severus opens his eyes and looks at him, can’t speak yet. “If I have to transfigure a pile of clothes into myself or sneak back in at five in the morning I’m still staying here.”

“Too Slytherin,” Severus holds out his arms, and Harry crawls into them, pulls the duvet over them, “to deny myself something I want so much.”

“Was worried you’d break the bed,” Harry admits. “It looks old.”

“It looks ugly,” Severus corrects. “Who thought dark purple velvet would be appropriate? I’m glad it was easy to have the curtains changed. I think it might be centuries old.”

“Dumbledore’s childhood bed,” Harry giggles, and Severus laughs too.

They talk and kiss until Daphne appears in the room, looking very angry. They accept dinner, and she tells them it’s not proper to eat in bed, so they wrap themselves up in dressing gowns and walk over to the sitting room where Daphne has set out quite the meal.

“What’s that,” Harry points at Severus’ thigh where the bathrobe has opened. They’re done eating, have finished their pudding, and Severus was just leaning over to set his cup back onto the low table.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten,” Severus drawls, showing off the bite on his thigh. He trails the two half circles with a finger, smiling at them happily. When he looks at Harry again, he smiles even wider. He looks bright, careless, relaxed.

“Show me then,” Harry tells him, and Severus stands up, opens the bathrobe, steps closer. Harry matches his fingertips to the red marks on Severus’ hips, trails teeth marks, touches the bruise above his pubic bone. Severus looks smug and proud and Harry has never loved him more.

“Turn around?”

Severus frowns, “don’t think I have any on my back.”

“I can help you with that,” Harry mumbles against the skin of Severus’ left buttock.

“Yes please,” Severus shivers, and Harry sucks. He kisses the red mark, then helps him back into his bathrobe.


	17. Year 7 - Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It’s strange to go back to living in the Gryffindor tower, to be a student with homework after almost five months of self-study and hiding. Professor Snape instead of Severus. At least he doesn’t have to pretend to hate him anymore. Harry feels completely drained all the time. Doing his homework, studying for exams, working on his project, he seems to have to drag himself from one thing to the next. He makes lists of everything he thinks about, everything he wants to do, because what if he forgets? It takes Harry a full two weeks to remember that maybe they should let the Dursleys know they can come out of hiding and Severus laughs at that for ages."

As soon as the holidays start and all students except for two Ravenclaws and a Hufflepuff leave the castle to celebrate the first Voldemort-free holiday in years, Harry moves back in with Severus. He’s endlessly grateful that there is time now to catch up on his lists of things to do, but the first night that he settles down to get to work at the heavy table in the living room of Severus’ quarters, Severus covers his eyes with a cold hand.

“No more studying today.”

“Severus,” Harry tries to reason, tapping on the scroll to his right that holds one of his lists, “I’m very busy.”

“Not tonight.”

It takes a bit of arguing, but Harry is finally wrestled into the shower and forced to put on some clean pyjamas. Severus takes his hand, then pulls him out and through and down the stairs until they’re standing in front of the Defence classroom. Harry whirls around and beams at him.

“They’ve arrived?”

Severus nods and knocks, then turns to leave again, but Harry grabs his hand. “Stay with me,” he whispers. “Please.”

Severus’ face is fiercely red by the time Remus opens the door, but he doesn’t pull his hand free.

“Hi professor Lupin,” Harry calls out as he runs into the room to hug Sirius. Sirius laughs and hugs him back, complaining about how Harry is getting too tall. Edith is sitting on the floor looking confused and displeased. Harry is vaguely aware of Severus shaking professor Lupins hand, then coming to shake Siriuis’. He asks politely about the trip, about the baby, while Harry kneels down and holds out his hand to Edith.

“Hi Edith,” he smiles, “I’m Harry.”

Edith holds up the stuffed elephant he got her for her last birthday. “Harry.”

“The elephant is called Harry,” Remus informs them, and Harry grins at Severus. Sirius walks in with a tea tray, complaining about how Edith slept the whole way to England and she’ll never sleep now and Remus is the worst husband in the world for leaving them behind in Germany for almost _two_ months, but all of them are smiling.

When they’re settled with tea and biscuits and pumpkin juice for Edith, the subject turns to Harry’s plans for after graduation. As he talks to Sirius and Remus, Severus gets caught up in a game of passing things back and forth with Edith. The look on his face is priceless. Edith gets quicker and quicker, until she throws a toy block at him that bounces back and hits her in the face. Her lip quivers for just a second before she starts crying, and she leaps into Severus’ arms for comfort before Sirius or Remus can respond. Severus holds her tight as she wails and wraps her arms around his neck, shooting a worried look at her dads. Harry leans forward to touch his hair, push it behind his ear.

“Seems like she likes you.”

The sweet shy smile that Severus flashes in response to that makes Harry want to cry too, and he’s grateful when Remus decides for all of them that it’s bedtime.

 

At night, in bed, where it’s safe and warm. Harry does cry.

“Sorry,” he hiccoughs, when Severus looks worried and scared. “I don’t even know what’s wrong, I’m sorry.”

“Entirely allowed to cry,” Severus promises, pulling Harry close, then closer still, until he’s wrapped up all the way in duvet and arms and legs.

 

The morning of Christmas eve, Harry gets woken up early by Severus with tea and a muffin, then directed to clothes and on to the greenhouse. There are flowers everywhere, out of season and bigger and stronger than they should be. Harry knows there was nothing planted here before Halloween. It must have taken tremendous effort to get them like this.

“I’ve been worried about you,” Severus tells him, handing Harry scissors and getting started on making neat piles of flowers.

“Why five piles?” Harry asks, adding gladioli to the lilies.

“Your parents, Albus, Moody, Mr Diggory.” Severus keeps cutting and adding to the pile until each has equal amounts of flowers. He takes out vases from underneath the working table and fills them with water before shrinking everything and carefully placing the vases in a box. He takes Harry’s hand and together they walk out of the school, across the grounds, coats flapping in the December wind.

They start with Dumbledore, then Apparate somewhere Harry’s never been to lay flowers at Cedric’s grave. In Godric’s Hollow they clear the grave of snow, check that the plants they planted over a year ago are going to survive winter, and set down two vases.

Moody’s grave is by far the most depressing. Alone, unlike Harry’s parents. Not in front of his life’s work like Dumbledore’s, not surrounded by flowers and toys and candles like Cedric’s. In a corner of an impersonal London cemetery, no text beyond his name and his birth and death day. Harry sits down heavily in front of the grave and feels Severus cast warming charms around him before he’s left alone. He traces the letters on the grave carefully, with a cold shaking finger. Sits unmoving, until Severus comes back with steaming paper cups of hot chocolate. Severus wraps himself around Harry, leaning his head on Harry’s shoulder, his hand splayed on Harry’s stomach.

“He died for me,” Harry croaks, when the hot chocolate is done and he’s starting to lose sensation in his toes.

“He died for the cause he gave his life to Harry,” Severus plays with his hair. “He went down fighting. I am certain he is at peace.”

Harry nods, and lets Severus carry him home. 

 

On the morning of Christmas day, Harry stands gaping at the living room, wrapped in a borrowed bathrobe, until Severus comes up behind him and gives him a little shove.

“When’d you do all this?”

“One of us fell asleep at ten yesterday," he smiles at Harry, dark eyes fluffy hair, "right after our shower too.”

Harry looks at Severus. “I’ve not forgotten what you were trying to distract me from.”

Severus looks away, “it’s not that I don’t want to.”

“Maybe.” Harry places a hand on Severus' face, meets his eyes. “But you should tell me if you want me to stop asking, because I want it but if you don’t want to I don’t.”

Severus kisses him fondly. “You may keep asking.”

Harry looks around the sitting room. Severus has gotten rid of all of Dumbledore’s ugly furniture, has taken his stuff from the dungeons up. Their armchairs are by the fire, the comfortable sofa, the beautiful carpet. The familiar bookshelves are set up along one wall and by the window is a new table. It’s so big it could probably fit all of the Weasleys. Or at least eight people. On the walls hang pictures, instead of Dumbledore's horrible art, landscapes and a few that Harry recognizes from the photo album. The Christmas tree in the corner isn’t different than it was last night, but the pile underneath it is. Severus pushes him in the direction of the presents and they sit down on the floor together.

“The Art of War?” Harry laughs when he opens the present Severus had wrapped in silver and green for him.

Severus hums absentmindedly, he is focused on unwrapping some bottle. “Recommended literature for all Defence apprentices.”

“Check yours,” Harry points out a bright red parcel with a golden bow.

Severus picks it up and opens it, “How to Win Friends and Influence People?”

“But I considered buying you this one,” Harry nods at The Art of War, “it’s supposed to help you with the political aspects of being a headmaster. I know you’ve had to come across as mean and awful for decades and this is a book written by Americans. They’re very friendly.”

Severus stares at him.

“Not good?”

“Very good.” Severus still looks cross, but he is nodding.

“What’s up then?”

“A real headmaster.”

“Yeah,” Harry grins, waving his hand around the room to indicate the changed furniture, “overwhelming isn’t it?”

“Are you working today and tomorrow?”

“No. I’m the one that makes the schedules now, and there is no reason to lie about me having someone I’d like to spend Christmas with.”

“Good,” Harry beams at him, “I have plans for us.”

“We have to be present in the Great Hall today.”

“Well yeah, but we don’t tomorrow. And I thought we could work on phase two of getting people to accept our relationship.”

“What was phase one?” Severus hand Harry another present from the pile. Books from Hermione, books from Remus and Sirius, Quidditch gloves from Ron.

“Killing Voldemort together and telling people that’s what we did.”

“Alright,” Severus stretches out on the carpet, his hair a halo around his pale face. It’s so good to have the carpet back.

“Step two should show that we didn’t just work together, we also got along. Let’s sit together tonight, pop some Christmas crackers, laugh around with our friends.”

“Have you hired Mr. Creevey?”

Harry nods. “Slytherin of me, isn’t it?”

Severus laughs, then summons another present. It’s a book that Hermione got him, on very advanced Arithmancy. It looks honestly scary.

 

The day after Boxing Day, Severus and Harry are in the small kitchen in the Headmaster’s quarters for hours. They make an obscene amount of fishbroth first, then make dough and cook the puffs. When Ron and Hermione arrive, Severus finishes cooking the fish and potatoes, Hermione helps with the bread, Ron gets started on the wine, and Harry lets McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey in. Hagrid arrives last. Sirius and Remus are visiting their German neighbours with Edith for Christmas.

“I think,” professor McGonagall says when Severus serves up the bouillabaisse, “that I’m ready to be Minerva for the night.”

Madame Pomfrey cheers, “and I’m Poppy.”

Harry grins and pours them all a glass of wine, “first names in these quarters then?”

“I still prefer Hagrid,” Hagrid smiles. They all nod.

“I see you’ve moved your furniture up,” Hermione comments, “are the plants and snakes here too?”

Harry nods happily. “Severus asked the castle to make us a greenhouse and it somehow moved the one from down by the lake up to this tower.”

“The snakes’ll be happy about that,” Ron says around a mouthful of potato. Minerva looks completely baffled by the conversation.

“I’ll show you after dinner,” Severus grins. “You too, Poppy, Hagrid, if you’re interested.”

When they finish the bouillabaisse, Harry and Severus go into the kitchen and laugh while Harry fills the puffs and Severus does the caramel. They make a huge pile, drizzle over more caramel and walk back into the sitting room. Their friends stare at them and Harry giggles.

“It’s a bit of a story, but _voilà, notre croquembouche_.”

Harry and Severus tell the story of why they’re eating croquembouche together, while Minerva shares some very good whisky. They all end up sitting around the fire and chatting until late. Hagrid becomes tipsy enough not to seem so ill at ease inside the castle, and all is well.

 

The first of January Harry bumps into professor Lupin in the hallway. They greet each other, chat a bit about Sirius and Edith, Remus being healthier than ever, what it was like to be back in Germany for a few days, then as they walk to lunch together, Remus looks at Harry.

“Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight, Harry? We’ll eat in our quarters by the Defence classroom and talk about a Defence master that would take you on.”

“Could I,” Harry tries not to blush and fails, “bring someone?”

“A special someone?” Remus teases.

“Yeah,” Harry feels himself grin the way he always does when he lets himself think of Severus as his _partner_.

“Of course,” Remus nods, “he’s always welcome.”

When Harry asks Severus if he’d join, Severus isn’t happy at all.

“I’m not sure I would be welcome, Harry.”

“Which is why I asked, and he said it was fine. It was fine last time too,” Harry yawns as he stretches out across the sofa.

“It was awkward last time. Dinner takes hours. Did Black agree?”

“I hope they talk to each other.”

“You don’t know,” Severus leans back in his chair.

“I don’t know,” Harry nods, “but I’d like some kind of relationship with him and his family, and you’re my family.”

Severus stares at him, eyes wide, mouth twitching. But he agrees to come.

He’s nervous when Harry and he get dressed for dinner, worried about maybe pinning up his hair. “Should I wear this?” He asks, holding up some heavy outer robes.

“We’re within the castle,” Harry shrugs, “don’t think you’ll need it. But if it helps you, do wear them. It’s a good colour.”

Severus doesn’t wear the robes. He wears simple casual robes, Harry wears nice jeans and a jumper. They chat about the snakes on their way over.  

“Headmaster Snape, Harry,” Professor Lupin steps back when he sees Severus.

“Call me Severus, please,” Severus tries a smile but it comes out wobbly and Harry’s heart clenches.

“Hi Remus,” he grins, then locks eyes with Sirius, “hi Sirius.”

Sirius is trying to make Edith eat which involves a lot of screaming and laughing, apparently. When she’s done eating, Severus gets to play with her and Harry takes her to bed. He comes back to the living room to the most awkward silence he’s ever had the displeasure of experiencing.

“It’d mean the world to me if all of you could get along, but let’s just talk about Defence Masters now?”

“I - think that’s a good idea,” Remus draws it out.

“We’ve been discussing looking outside of the UK to prevent Harry being harassed,” Severus says, sounding worried and strange.

Somehow, Sirius manages to restrain himself and he gets them all sitting at the table, where Dobby helps them with the food, and started on the wine. The conversation is stilted but alright as long as they stick to talking about Harry. Harry has to swallow a couple of times when Severus pulls his hand back gently when Harry grabs it under the table. It’s understandable that he’d be uncomfortable, after all.

“If you could introduce me to Karan Mehta I would be really grateful,” Harry tells Remus as he drains his wine. Pudding was treacle tart so he’s happy and comfortably full.

“I thought you were going to be the celebrity in the Mastery,” Severus teases, voice soft and low, focusing only on Harry. His dark eyes glitter and Harry wants to kiss him. Sirius opens his mouth so Harry interrupts.

“Yeah, well, I really like what he does with cross cultural Defence and I like his papers. There's more to us famous people than our names you know,” Harry winks and Severus smiles back.

Remus laughs, “I’ll see what I can do. He doesn’t seem like the type to be impressed by your name though, so you should work hard for your NEWTs.”

They say their goodbyes and Harry reminds Remus that it’d be really nice if he could stay on at Hogwarts while Harry completes his Mastery.

“What would I do here though?” Sirius complains.

“Be a trophy wife?” Harry suggests, which makes Severus choke and cough in suppressed laughter. Sirius is barking and Remus chuckles along.

“We’ll talk about it,” Sirius promises.

Severus looks so relieved when they close the door behind them, back in his quarters, that Harry feels guilty for asking him to come.

“Don’t,” Severus whispers, dark eyes glittering. “It’s important to you, they love you.”

 

Harry wakes Severus up on his birthday with a tray of breakfast.

“Harry...” Severus sighs, looking at the food, the neatly wrapped presents, the single pink ambrosia in a glass.

“The toast and coffee are for you,” Harry grins. “I’ll eat the rest.”

“You found another copy of this?” Severus asks as he looks through the book on flowers.

“I didn’t,” Harry settles into bed again, leans against the pillows, “I copied it with a spell. Figured it could be code or something. The other book is poems I like, I found one of her books in the library last year.”

“Thank you,” Severus whispers, kissing Harry on the cheek.

“Are you looking forward to tonight?” Harry had finally managed to convince Severus to throw a birthday party by reminding him that as a headmaster, friendships would help with politics and since Voldemort is gone now they should be thinking about traditions they want to create. Severus had told him that if more than 20 people showed up he would go hide with the snakes.

“I am, actually,” Severus admits. “It’ll be a strange mix of people but we have the space and they’re not coming until after dinner anyway.”

The party is a big success. Hermione charms the pants off of the Malfoys by interrogating them on Wizarding tradition in the politest way possible. Order members and Hogwarts staff mix easily, and Ron challenges Minerva to a chess match early enough in the evening that they actually manage to finish before either of them is drunk. Minerva wins, but only barely.

“Poppy,” Harry sits down heavily on the sofa, hands her another drink.

“Yes dear,” she smiles at him. Out of uniform, pleasantly buzzed with a flush on her cheekbones.

“When did you know?”

“Ah,” she taps their glasses together. “I check routinely for bonds in patients that are very ill. If they have life bonds we need to find their partner and bring them in for care too.”

“First war?”

She hums, “came in bleeding and unconscious. Hadn’t seen him in years.”

“Did you know it was me?”

“Not at all,” she shakes her head. “Not until fourth year.”

“But you didn’t tell anyone.”

“There is such a thing as medical confidentiality, Harry,” she says sternly, “and it’s not as if Albus listened to me when I tried to tell him just how skinny you were.”

“So Minerva and Severus and you were just on private quests to fatten me up, all this time?”

She laughs, pats his hand, changes the topic swiftly. He’s grateful for it.

 

“Harry,” Severus whispers the day before the students that didn’t stay at Hogwarts over break are coming back. “Come see the living room.”

They’d been working in the greenhouse together until Severus had said something about making hot chocolate and disappeared for an hour. Harry was curious after ten minutes, but he knows Severus well enough to expect a surprise and to want it to unfold as Severus had intended.

“Severus,” he hisses, looking around the room. He’s covered in dirt and a little sweaty but stands in the middle of the room taking in the pictures Severus put up. There are pictures of Harry reading on the carpet, ill-fitting jeans and shaggy hair, Harry flying, Harry and Severus bent over something in the library in Surrey. Harry showing off the table filled with piles of baked goods at sixteen, laughing happily. The picture of the garden at Privet Drive 4 on Harry’s thirteenth birthday. The large scroll Harry had made with all the plants he had to be able to identify for his Herbology OWL has been framed, neat rows of carefully painted leaves and flowers, labelled in his scratchy handwriting.

“Severus,” he repeats, looking at him. Severus is nervous, afraid the gesture won’t be appreciated.

“You probably won’t be here as much, next year,” Severus explains. “But they’re our quarters to me.”

Harry points at the LP player and it turns itself on. Jazz. Good. He pulls Severus closer and they sway together slowly.

“Offering me a home,” Harry teases, “can’t believe you’d break tradition after almost seven years.”

Severus looks scared and flushed and Harry wraps his arms around his neck tighter. “Teasing. I know it’s the cottage, I know it’ll be my birthday.”

Relaxing just a little, Severus sighs.

“What have I ever done to make you believe this isn’t completely unconditional?” Harry whispers.

“I’m still learning to trust kindness,” Severus whispers back.

“Glad you found me early,” Harry kisses Severus’ neck, “less unkindness to unlearn.”

“Your English is atrocious,” Severus tells him. But Harry hears the _I love you more than life itself_ loud and clear.

 

The next few months pass in a blur, Harry sees Severus most days but sleeps in his dorm. The pictures Colin had taken at the Christmas dinner were wonderful and one had found its way onto the wall in Severus’ living room. One of Severus and Harry pulling apart a Christmas Cracker had been published in the Daily Prophet which had caused a bit of speculation on their friendship. Harry studies for his NEWTs, practices flying and draws birds over and over and over. He also tries to work on his plan, especially when Severus is away on the weekend. When they’re lying in bed, opposite sides of the castle, Harry sends Severus messages.

Thirty-four, the page on forget-me-nots. Forty-two, gardenia. One hundred and twenty, lavender. Twenty-two, ambrosia. It’s nice to go to sleep holding the pebble, it’s nice to wake up to a message of _I’m thinking of you_. To be safe and to know they’ll see each other, not all day, but every day at least.

When Severus falls asleep before Harry does, he roams the castle. He’s not sure what he’s looking for, but he checks all the dark corners, every secret corridor, every empty classroom. While he’s walking he thinks of what he wants to do, who he wants to be, where he wants to go. The answer is always Severus, but slowly he starts to figure out there’s _teaching_ and _dependable, a good friend, a great husband_  and _I wonder what words they use for spells in other languages_.

For the Easter holiday, Severus leaves to fix up the cottage. It gives Harry time to work on the plan and write letters to Defence Masters, but he misses Severus anyway. He’s narrowed it down to three by now and is trying to negotiate contracts.

‘Could you help me with the contract?’ Harry asks Severus through the pebble when he’s stuck on something that doesn’t make sense at all. He gets no reply, but half an hour later Severus strolls into the living room.

“Thought you’d be here,” he grins, kissing Harry.

“People talk to me in the library,” Harry complains. "I should've asked."

“You’ll know if you’re ever not welcome somewhere,” Severus promises, “I set rather terrifying wards when I want to.”

“Good to know,” Harry laughs kicking the chair next to him so Severus can sit, “now could you look at this for me?” He hands Severus the contract from Master Mehta.

“Is that what you’re confused over?” Severus asks after reading it through. He’s sitting next to Harry, hair pinned up, steaming mug of tea wrapped in slim hands long fingers.

“Yes. What does it mean that I’ll be required to do private study during summer?”

“It says here that due to the harvest season you won’t be able to receive tutoring during the months of June, July, and August. That’s not so unusual, I had every May and December off because my Master travelled with his family then.”

“That’d mean I’d be home for summer hols, right?” The contract also says he’ll be allowed two weeks per year for chosen religious or cultural holidays as long as they were communicated in advance.

“Not to get ahead of ourselves,” Severus looks at Harry, dark eyes serious face, “but this is a very reasonable contract. Better than I would have expected considering his reputation.”

“I’d work 80 hours a week if it meant seeing you for Christmas and summer,” Harry kisses Severus on his nose, receives surprised pleased _grateful_ in return. Happy thin smile.

“Will you stay for dinner?” Harry asks when his stomach growls.

“I will, but I must return after.”

“Or tomorrow morning?”

Severus laughs. “Tomorrow morning works too.”

After dinner, something Dobby had brought up that Severus had insisted on savouring, Harry drags Severus into the bedroom.

“Missed you,” he kisses Severus’ neck. “So happy to see you.”

“It’s been four days,” Severus laughs, “it’s been four days before.”

“Not in a while,” Harry grins, unbuttoning Severus. Dragging off his clothes. Pushing him onto the bed. Severus is hard already, and Harry kisses and licks and _sucks_.

“Stop,” Severus squirms, “take off your clothes.”

Harry stands next to the bed, undressing slowly, while staring at Severus. Naked, panting, sweaty.

“Now on the bed,” Severus says. Harry stretches out next to Severus on the duvet.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Severus looks at him until he nods, then picks a pillow and pushes it under Harry’s hips. He folds Harry in half easily, knees on the mattress next to his face, and kisses him once on each buttock. Bites a little. Summons the lube which makes Harry pant and gasp before anything’s even really happened. Severus uncorks the vial and drips some of the oil over Harry, who shivers when he feels it run down his skin. With a finger, Severus massages the oil into his arse and Harry bites on his lip hold back the obscene sounds that are trying to escape.

Severus swats him lightly. “Be noisy. I like noisy. No need to hold back at all. Tell me if you like it.”

Harry nods, and Severus swats him again, a little harder. So Harry moans, deep and guttural.

“Oh,” Severus looks surprised.

“What?”

“Didn’t expect that. Was going for a yes or no.”

Harry blushes, his cheeks hot. “It felt good,” he mumbles, suddenly very embarrassed. He feels exposed and vulnerable and squirms a little.

“That’s good, Harry.” Severus pets his skin, kisses the back of his thigh. “I’m happy it does.”

“Alright.” Harry wills himself relaxed again. It helps when Severus kisses him some more, bites at the sensitive skin a little, puts his finger back.

“Severusss,” Harry hisses, “that feels very very nice.”

Severus hums and kisses closer to his finger, keeping an eye on Harry’s face. Harry still feels exposed and vulnerable, but the way Severus looks at him makes it seem like a good thing. He gasps when Severus starts moving his finger in, slowly and carefully. He pauses his kissing to add more lubrication. When Severus pushes in a second finger, Harry wants more, needs more, is aching with it.

“Hurts,” he groans, then when Severus pulls back his fingers gently, “no! Not the fingers, just...”

“Tell me?”

“Wanna come,” Harry feels his face get even more red. Severus pulls back, slowly, carefully, sits next to Harry and helps him uncurl, stretch out his legs. Severus leans over, taking Harry into his mouth, and sucks. It takes no time at all before Harry is coming, pushing up his hips, twisting his face, squeezing Severus’ arm just a little too much.

“Sorry,” he whispers when he opens his hand. “That might bruise.”

“I don’t mind bruises,” Severus tells him, not for the first time, “though I’m not fond of blood, your nails are hardly long enough for that.”

Harry expects Severus to lie down next to him, for it to be over, but Severus carefully licks him clean, then keeps going. Sucking on Harry’s balls. It’s very intense but Severus seems to understand he needs to be avoiding his over-sensitive cock. Severus pushes Harry’s legs back up, licks behind his balls, then further, it makes Harry squirm and wriggle and it feels so so good. He works a finger back in, then another. Adds more lube. Harry howls when Severus pushes the fingers in further and _twists_.

“Good?”

Harry tries to tell him its perfect, spectacular, unsurpassed, but what comes out sounds more like ‘nngh’. He’s so hard. Twitches every time he looks at Severus.

Severus chuckles and goes back to licking around his fingers, while pushing them in and out. Harry’s legs start twitching and he grabs his arms around them, pushes his head back into the pillow to stop shaking so much.

“Too much?”

“No no, ‘s good.”

He cries as Severus licks his own fingers, then pushes his tongue between his fingers. “You can roll onto your stomach if you’d prefer.”

“No!” Harry breathes, tries to phrase words. “Wanna see you.”

“Alright,” Severus shifts, uses the hand he’s had on Harry’s thigh until now to touch Harry’s aching cock. It’s so good, so good, too good. Harry twitches and moans and there’s something in his chest, something in his throat, something that needs _out._ He cries as Severus twists his fingers, pulls with his hand, licks and licks, and Harry comes. All over his stomach, on his chest, even his chin. Severus grins at him, looking fond and wide-eyed and warm.

He feels the tingle of being cleaned, his floppy and tired legs being pulled back, being wrapped into Severus’ arms. Shuffling closer, kissing lazily, mouthing _love_ into Severus’ skin.

“What do you want?” He asks when he feels like maybe he’s landed again.

“Horrible, horrible things.”

“Tie me up? Fill me up? Bruise me all over?”

Severus shivers, “Merlin help me.”

Harry hums, pulls Severus closer. “Have me do all of that to you?”

Severus wraps a hand over his mouth, stifling a noise.

“Don’t do that,” Harry frowns. “I like the noise too.”

Severus looks at him, scared eyes, and Harry peels the hand away, leans really close. Kisses the palm. “Do you have massage oil?”

Eyes crossing a little, trying to read Harry’s face from up close, Severus nods. “Almond oil. What are you planning?”

Harry sticks up his hand and opens the vial when it flies over. He pushes Severus down onto his back and pours some oil into his belly button, over his arms and torso. Trying not to stain the duvet too much, he catches the drips as they spill, gently working them into Severus’ skin. Small circles on soft skin. Severus shifts and groans, panting through the sensations as Harry spreads the oil, warm hands, hot puffs of breath. Harry sits on Severus’ upper legs. Works the oil into twitching muscles. When the oil is mostly spread out, Harry slowly and gently scratches his way down from Severus’ shoulders to his hips. Severus arches his neck back.

“What do you want?” Harry asks.

“Everything,” Severus cries. “I don’t know.”

Harry gets off of Severus’ legs. Prods him until he’s on his stomach. Pours oil into the hollow of his back. Gently biting the skin of Severus shoulders, working the oil into the muscles on his back, breathing in the smell of his hair. Severus pushes his hips forward and back, grinding into the duvet. Harry massages his lower back, his bottom, his legs. Severus pushes onto his knees, taking the pressure off his heavy cock. His head falls forward, his hair does too. There’s a tiny strip of red skin on his neck that shows he’s been working in the garden, the weather has been nice. Taking in the in-out-in-out of Severus’ breaths, the expanding of his ribcage, the swaying, hot, heavy, Harry lies down between Severus’ legs. Moves onto his back. Wriggles up. Licks the cock that’s now right in his face.

“Fuck,” Severus groans, with feeling.

Harry wraps his lips around the head, plays with the heavy balls, fingers slick with oil. He moves his head to the side a little. “Would you,” he starts, “move your hips? Set a pace?”

Severus sits up a little and stares down at him. Checks if he’s sure, if he knows what he’s asking. He seems satisfied and moves his weight back into his hands, slowly pushes forward, in in in. Harry squeezes his leg gently, no further. Out.

Hard, panting, flushed, Severus moves fast, doesn’t dare going too deep, listens to Harry’s breathing, loses himself regardless. Harry knows when it’s coming, what was rhythmic and steady becomes wild, uncontrolled. Punishing.

“I'm - may I?”

He nods and nods and he feels Severus twitch and groan and shiver and he’s coming.

Collapsing to the side, careful with bony knees, long legs, Severus curls up into a tight little ball. Whines. Harry wraps himself around him, drags the duvet over, kisses sweet and gentle.

“Would it be appropriate,” he whispers, “to ask the Defence master that will take me on to let me Floo in to Hogwarts every night?”

Severus huffs sleepily. “Lucky you aren’t doing Potions, that’s an all-day-every-day sort of job when it’s at all interesting.”

“Maybe I’ll let them advertise my fame or sell my autographs in exchange for nights and weekends off.”

“Won’t hear me arguing,” Severus kisses Harry’s ear. Slowly uncurls a little, leans back into Harry’s arms.

 _This_ , Harry thinks. _Just this._


	18. Year 7 - Warming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "“Would it be appropriate,” he whispers, “to ask the Defence master that will take me on to let me Floo in to Hogwarts every night?”
> 
> Severus huffs sleepily. “Lucky you aren’t doing Potions, that’s an all-day-every-day sort of job when it’s at all interesting.”
> 
> “Maybe I’ll let them advertise my fame or sell my autographs in exchange for nights and weekends off.”
> 
> “Won’t hear me arguing,” Severus kisses Harry’s ear. Slowly uncurls a little, leans back into Harry’s arms.
> 
> This, Harry thinks. Just this."

During exam preparation, Harry never leaves Severus’ quarters, except to eat and work on The Plan. His dormmates are used to it, everyone else assumes he is studying in an abandoned classroom somewhere. Seventh years tend to do that. Hermione and Ron join him some days but they go back to the Gryffindor tower at curfew.

There are times where Harry feels he’s never been more in charge of his life. He wakes up, eats, studies, eats, studies, runs or flies, eats, and studies some more. At night Severus holds him, the frown on his forehead deepening a little every day. But there’s not time to go into that.

Not until Severus spends a weekend in the south to work in the garden and Harry doesn’t sleep at all. He roams the castle all night, spends all day taking notes and reading and reviewing. Sometimes he takes a break to write letters. Severus finds him like that late on Sunday.

“The Baron came to find me on my way up here,” Severus says as he takes off his coat and outer robes. “He says you’ve not slept since I left. Roaming the halls all night.”

Harry blinks at him, bleary-eyed. Severus feels like an apparition, a beautiful and unreal presence. He tries to think and realizes he _does_ feel like he hasn’t been too efficient in studying today. Severus kneels down next to Harry on the carpet, careful to avoid the strewn around paper and scrolls. He’s been yelled at enough over the last few weeks to know not to mess with the order.

“What are you looking for?” He whispers, beautiful and strange and quite probably worried.

Harry tilts his head, is he looking for something? He thinks of empty corridors, the way his stomach clenches every time he catches a glimmer of a ghost, before realizing it’s one of the long-familiar ones.

“Ghosts,” he answers, as it hits him. “New ghosts. Cedric, Moody.”

Severus nods and gathers him up in his arms. Harry breathes in the scent of him, deep. It calms him instantly, he vaguely thinks he should carry around some of Severus' aftershave so he can sniff it throughout the day. “Ghosts appear instantly after death, they hang around their bodies for days or weeks. We would know if one of them hadn’t passed on. It's extremely obvious.”

A breath that Harry hadn’t realized he was holding escapes him as a sob, he feels himself crumble. “Even Voldemort.”

“I doubt there was enough of his soul left to become a ghost,” Severus tells him quietly, “but if there had been, we would have known.”

“I killed him,” Harry murmurs, too tired to speak up. Severus hears him, anyway.

“You did, all three of you. If you hadn’t, if you’d duelled or fought or taken even a second longer to do it, I would’ve been dead.”

“If I’d failed more people would be dead,” Harry tells himself, looking at Severus.

A soothing hand covers his cheek, “how’s the rest of Team Gold dealing with this?”

“Better than me,” Harry confesses, and he gets pulled to his feet, undressed, tucked into bed. Severus joins him a few minutes with fresh tea and a book. The skin-to-skin contact calms Harry, the bond hums between them, long fingers trailing little circles on his back have him asleep in minutes.

 

Exams go well, Severus stays with him and keeps him to a schedule that has him sleep, eat, and relax. They whisper into the dark at night, and the horrible tightness in Harry’s chest eases. The lists get shorter. His mind gets clearer. One day he finds himself in the Gryffindor common room laughing with Ginny and Hermione until they all have sore stomachs. When Ron climbs back into the room and looks at him with a grateful smile, he realizes how long it’s been since he’s laughed like that. Only two exams left. He grins back and pulls Ron onto the sofa with them, catches him up on what’s so hilarious about the Goblin wars, making Hermione and Ginny roleplay the various Goblins again until Ron too is howling with laughter.

 

When the exams are done, there’s a week and a half of Harry having absolutely no idea what to do with himself. His classmates seem happy, his teachers smile at him encouragingly, and he just feels hollow and aimless. Other people are packing, but he’ll be staying at the castle until his birthday. Some people tell each other over and over again about how much they’re going to miss everything and he doesn’t want any part in that either. Ron and Hermione are busy trying to keep people from sneaking out and drinking now that exams are done for almost everyone, and Severus is knee-deep in paperwork.

He works on the plan, the first few days, then there isn’t much more to do, so he spends two days rereading everything they have by Tolkien.

“This needs to end,” Severus announces as he walks into their quarters, and Harry realizes he can’t remember the last time he moved. His neck hurts. He needs to pee. Has he eaten? He forces himself to get up, to push away all thoughts of Frodo and Sam for a minute.

Severus gives him some time to use the bathroom, drink some water, make himself a sandwich, then points him to his chair, hands him a hot chocolate, and sits down on the carpet in front of him.

“Oh oh,” Harry laughs weakly. Severus smiles at him, sweet and real.

“I’m going to ask you this once,” Severus makes eye contact and Harry nods to show he’s listening. Deep brown and concerned. “Do you - do you want my help with this? I can make you sleep, I can make you eat, I can make you be useful. But I won’t if you’d rather I didn’t.”

Harry doesn’t need to think on it. He has no idea what day it is and his whole body hurts. “Yes. Yes please, help me.”

“Alright,” Severus nods and leans his head on Harry’s legs, smiles thinly as Harry begins petting his face, soft skin, bits of stubble. Greasy smelly hair after a day of working too hard. “I could really use some help with my paperwork, we can make a plan for the coming months after dinner.”

 

On the day that results are announced for N.E.W.T. students, there’s many Weasleys. Hermione’s parents, led in by hand to see Hogwarts for the first time. No Dursleys. Severus, gorgeous and powerful in impressive ceremonial robes. Sirius and Remus and the bab. Hagrid. Minerva and Poppy tell him to call them Minerva and Poppy forever. The other students have left with the Hogwarts Express, but the seventh years and their friends and families stay for just one more day.

 

Severus gives the speech Harry’s been helping him with. It’s touching and hopeful and talks of the war and loss and overcoming adversity. Just enough sentimentality to make a statement. Harry makes an effort not to stare too much, to keep his flushed cheeks hidden and his eyes from shining bright. He loves how regal Severus looks. There’s people from the Prophet and Harry hopes they’ll print the picture of their class as well as a picture of Severus giving his speech. After everyone has signed off on their N.E.W.T. grades there is a big dinner, everyone in formal dress and assigned seats, until Severus stands up, motions everyone else to do the same, and flicks tables and chairs off to the side. A band appears on the raised part of the Great Hall where the teachers normally sit. They start playing some Weird Sisters song.

“Severus!” Harry calls, running through the crowd, parchment clutched in his hand.

“Congratulations!” Severus grins, eyes shining, spinning Harry around.

“Did you see my grades!” Harry shouts over the music and Severus laughs.

“I signed your list of grades, Harry.”

He’d refused to tell Harry what his grades were before they were finalized, saying it wouldn’t be fair. All O’s, except for an EE for Astronomy. Best grades in years for Defence. Karan Mehta has told him he’ll need O’s for Potions, Transfiguration, Herbology, and of course Defence. Harry can’t wait to write him back to officially accept his offer of an Apprenticeship.

Hermione, who got perfect marks for far more subjects than a sane person would submit themselves to, was asked to speak on behalf of their year. She’ll be the Apprentice of Kingsley Shacklebolt starting September. Her speech had been very good too, talking about justice, bravery, wits, and loyalty being far more important than blood status without ever using any of those words.

Harry wraps his arms around Severus’ neck and they dance together to the final tunes of the song. Then the singer of the band sings: “Come on everybody!” Muggle music!

Before Harry knows it, he’s being thrown around, he’s spinning, falling into a dip. Laughing with Severus, singing along. The dancing floor is full but Harry only feels Severus all around him. Swishing robes, strong hands, soft hair. No time to hide what he's feeling.

The spell is completely broken when right next to them a camera clicks and flashes three times. They step away from each other.

“Just me, Harry,” Colin grins, “I’m here for Terry.”

“Colin,” Harry smiles back. “You must be so proud. Could you keep those pictures just for me?”

“Course,” Colin promises, and he moves away through the crowd. The band starts playing a cover of some song Harry’s never heard but all the adult wizards are singing along.

“Go talk to your friends,” Severus whispers, his hand on Harry’s lower back. “I’m about to be accosted by parents that don’t know what to think of me.”

“In those robes? They’ll know what to think, believe me.”

Severus looks shy and worried so Harry mouths “you’re sexy.”

He blushes deep. Harry stops himself from swinging forward for a kiss and beams at him instead. He joins the other Gryffindors at a table in the corner. Hermione conjures him a glass and pours champagne into it.

“Thank you?”

“It’s from my parents, just take it. We’ve tons of bottles.”

Harry takes a sip, it’s delicious.

“That a Muggle tradition?” Neville asks.

Hermione laughs, “I’m from a town of a thousand people, I only know the traditions we have. When the local school hands out exam results, all the parents bring something to drink.”

“Are you sad to be missing it?” Parvati asks, leaning over the table to grab a handful of peanuts from one of the bowls.

“I’m going, it’s next week.”

“Good,” Lavender nods. “Wanna dance, Pats?”

Parvati nods and stands up, briefly squeezing Harry’s shoulder as she walks away.

“Didn’t you kiss her once?” Seamus grins.

“Parvati? No,” Harry stares at him.

“Should go for it mate,” Dean joins in.

Ron laughs, and Hermione joins in and Harry tries to explain that Parvati is _not_ his type, while giggling with Ron and Hermione at the utter confusion on Dean and Seamus’ faces.

“Sorry,” Harry tries again, “she’s wonderful, she really is, but she’s not – ugh. Damnit.”

Ron howls, and Harry snatches his glass away from him. Takes a fortifying sip.

“Oh sod it. I’m in love with Severus Snape.”

Neville drops his glass, spilling champagne everywhere, Dean and Seamus stare blankly, Ginny giggles, and Ron just laughs harder. Right when Seamus is starting to look like he might want a clarification, Susan Bones comes over.

“Saw you dance just now, can you lead?”

Harry grins and stands up, taking Susan’s hand. They dance for a couple of songs, then Ginny takes her place. Hermione and Harry dance together for a good while, even Minerva wants a turn. Hagrid taps Harry’s shoulder when Minerva takes her leave and Harry pales.

“Don’t worry,” Hagrid laughs, “just wanted to congratulate you. D’ya know what you’ll do after?”

Harry tells him about spending the summer at the castle, then starting his Mastery.

“We’ll both be around then,” Hagrid grins at him. “I remember you being the scrawniest little thing, I’m very proud of how far you’ve come Harry.”

Harry hugs him tight, then gets ambushed by Sirius. He’s a great dancer, as expected, gracious and thoughtful. He invites Harry over for dinner. Harry’s been coming over every week or so to see Edith, sometimes even with Severus, so he accepts immediately. Then he gets a spin with his goddaughter, who’d dressed in frilly pink and is more interested in the lights overhead than anything else.

It’s almost midnight, the Great Hall emptying out a little, by the time Severus and Harry have time for each other again. Harry holds out his hand, and Severus accepts with a bow. He makes eye contact with the singer of the band and holds up three fingers. A slow waltz starts playing. Severus looks tall and proud and entirely in charge.

“Sneaky,” Harry whispers. “How many did you agree on with the singer?”

“Five,” Severus grins. “You’ve heard one, that was Twist Again, and four, We Go Together.”

“I danced that one with Hermione though.”

“As I intended.”

“What’s the other ones?”

“Two is At Last, five is Time to Say Goodbye. In case people don’t want to leave when I’m tired.”

“Hardly a banger that one is,” Harry laughs. He laughs harder when Severus pulls him into a surprise lift.

“It gets the message across,” Severus raises an eyebrow as if daring Harry to retaliate.

“Can we do At Last after this? Or did you have ideas for that one too?”

“I’m afraid everyone will know if we do that.”

“I’m –,” Harry licks his lips. “I just told like ten Gryffindors that I’m in love with you.”

Severus throws his head back and laughs. A true laugh, happy and honest. He looks at the singer and holds up two fingers. Harry grins at him and steps closer, they finish the song close enough that they can hear each other breathing over the music. At the first long, heavy, ‘At Last’, Severus spins him slowly. He keeps their steps light but they spin and twist with the words. Close and intimate. Harry's heart feels like it could burst.

“I love you,” Severus whispers in Harry’s ear when it’s over.

“I love you too,” Harry cups his chin as gently as he can. Kisses him on his cheek, then disappears into the crowd to let Severus get back to work.

 “Someone is not a secret anymore,” Hermione whispers in his ear as he passes her.

“Well,” Harry grins, “we made it pretty clear at Halloween that we worked together, then at Christmas that we’re friends, now that we’re interested.”

“All you need is a public date or two over summer,” Ron adds, joining them. “Do you guys want to go get some air?”

“Yeah lets,” Harry nods.

“Maybe a picnic in the park with Edith,” Hermione suggests.

“Dinner at the Leaky Cauldron, snog a little in a corner booth,” Ron chimes in.

“Piss off,” Harry laughs, “you can do those things. I’ll just pray no one finds out about the living together for another year or so.”

“Isn’t his house literally unplottable?” Ron smirks. Damn him for paying attention to Severus and learning how to smirk effectively. “Also fuck you very much for leaving us to explain to everyone what you meant about being in love with Snape.”

Harry hums, then laughs when Ron punches him, and drags Ron and Hermione over to the lake. It’s a clear night, chilly after a warm day, but they’re all wearing dress robes so they’re comfortable enough. They lie on their backs, Hermione in the middle, staring at the stars.

“Strange to think that we’re so small in the cosmos and our problems still feel so large,” Hermione muses.

“Gods, Hermione,” Harry groans.

“Merlin’s knickers you know how to ruin a moment,” Ron chimes in.

They all laugh and giggle and point out stars and constellations. It’s nice to look at the stars for fun instead of for Astronomy, nice to lie in the grass with his friends, one last time together at Hogwarts.

“Have you convinced Lupin to stay until you can take over yet?” Ron asks when they’re starting to yawn.

“No, but Sirius is in, so it’ll be easy. Have your parents all gone to bed?”

“Oh, ages ago,” Hermione nods, her hair has come undone from the neat bun it was in and is threatening to take over both Harry’s face and the rest of the universe. It makes Harry feel oddly nostalgic, even if it tickles. “They’re very excited to be sleeping at Hogwarts.”

“Same,” Ron says, “mum and dad insisted on that room on the sixth floor, next to the classrooms for reasons I do _not_ want to know. Nice of you to arrange sleeping places, anyway.”

“Mostly Severus did it,” Harry tells them, even though Harry has been in charge of a lot of the organizing over the last week or so, “he thought leaving Hogwarts for good should be a bigger affair and that Muggles should be able to come. I told him they would need a place to sleep that wasn’t a mile away. Half the castle is empty anyway.”

 

Severus doesn’t join him in bed until Harry has already fallen asleep. It must be four in the morning at least. Harry turns over when he feels the bed dip, shuffles closer when Severus shushes him and tells him to keep sleeping.

“All done?” Harry mumbles, kissing Severus’ collarbone.

Severus nods, and Harry wraps his arms around him to find he’s showered and is naked.

“Unfair,” he says, mostly to himself.

“What?” Severus is whispering and petting his hair so gently that Harry has to fight to stay awake.

“You smell all clean, and you’re naked,” he whines finally. “Turns me on.”

Severus snorts softly, then ghosts a kiss against Harry's forehead. “You showered too, I felt it would be rude to come here sweaty.”

“At least I put clothes on after,” Harry pushes his hips into Severus’ thigh to prove that he’s wearing clothes. And turned on.

“Excuse me,” Severus huffs, “who’s being unfair now?”

“You,” Harry giggles as he licks along Severus’ throat. He smells so clean and so warm.

“You’re the one that’s instigating sex you’re too tired to have.”

Harry laughs again and rolls himself on top of Severus, “it’s dangerous to make assumptions.”

Severus arms wrap around him immediately, holding Harry tight, and they kiss slowly while Harry tries to take his borrowed pants off. When Severus finally takes pity on him and helps him, they both sigh in relief.

“What do you want?” Severus mumbles against Harry’s lips.

Harry kisses him again, thinking on it. “Well, we’re both extremely clean.”

Severus laughs and pushes him off, rearranges him so he’s on his stomach. Lets him adjust himself against the mattress.

“If you,” he mumbles between kisses down Harry’s spine that make Harry’s skin sing, “are going to play coy...” He nips at Harry’s hips and arse until Harry’s quite forgotten he was talking at all. “I’ll have to take charge,” Severus finishes. Using his hands for leverage, he licks a long stripe up from Harry’s balls. Harry groans and strains against the mattress, feels himself lose control over his muscles as he twitches and whines.

Severus uses strong hands to keep him in place, and tortures him with his tongue. All Harry can do is shift away from _too much_ and lean into _not enough_.

As if the noises Severus is making weren’t enough proof that he is enjoying this just as much, Harry feels the evidence against his foot when Severus shifts a little. It takes tremendous effort, especially as Severus keeps licking and sucking and Harry’s arms and legs want very much to give up and let it happen, but Harry pushes himself onto his hands and knees. Harry feels Severus take one of his hands off, now that he has better access, and expects him to start touching himself. Instead he grabs onto Harry’s thigh hard.

Harry groans and swings back a little, missing the pressure from the mattress, loving the wetness, the pushing of Severus’ tongue, the occasional touch to his balls.

“Se-verus,” he groans, and Severus moves to take his cock in a tight fist. _Oh_ that’s good, “no – not that.”

Severus lets go as if burned, and slows his licking down.

“Touch yourself,” Harry manages, then almost starts crying as he peeks between his legs to see Severus sucking on two long fingers, bringing his hand around to his back. The expression of pure bliss on his face, which switches to hunger as he looks at Harry’s arse, is exquisite.

“Oh Christ,” Harry groans, as Severus returns to licking. His skin has gone cold from the brief pause, and the heat from Severus’ mouth, the eager little noises he’s making, it makes his arms tremble, his thighs burn with the need to thrust against something, _anything_. Severus knows what the high-pitched whine means and makes a fist around Harry’s cock. Between the sensations of Severus’ licking and probing and the tight grip that pumps at just the right speed, Harry is coming in seconds, pushing back, twitching forward, crying out. He pants and forces himself to let his fingers relax, get his arms to support him again, roll onto his side, then back. When he looks at Severus, he’s kneeling in the same position he was before, still-damp hair sticking out wildly, his face flushed, his fingers still in place. Fighting to keep still. Panting. Hunger and greed all over his face. Harry crawls over to him and kisses him deeply, guides Severus to his back, swallows him down. It can’t be comfortable to lie on his arm like that, his fingers couldn’t possibly be reaching any of the right spots, but Severus comes down his throat, scrabbling legs, hoarse cries, fingers leaving marks on Harry’s shoulder.

 

Breakfast is busy and loud, between the groaning about hangovers, the cackling about people that didn’t sleep in their own beds, and the crying of Lavender and her friends. Harry sits with Ron and Hermione, who are surrounded by their families, and chats happily until they too leave. He stands with Severus in the Great Hall when it’s hollow and empty and feels overwhelmingly sad for a moment. Then Severus shoots him a look and runs off with dramatic, billowing robes, and Harry can’t wait for summer.

 

They spend the first few weeks of summer working on their respective plotting, pretending not to know that the other is up to something. When they’re at the castle together they spend time with the other teachers, they brew, they explore the forest and the lake. One night they’re gathering some type of weed on the far end of the lake when Harry lies down in the grass. It’s warm, it’s been a warm week. The stars are out, it was full moon last week.

“Let’s sleep here,” he suggests, and Severus stands up from where he was picking out the best weeds. Shoots him a ‘we have a perfectly serviceable bed’ look. “I mean it. Let’s camp out.”

With some sighing and groaning, Severus agrees. He even has a large blanket that they can lie on in one of the pouches on his belt. Harry finds a bottle of wine in his.

“These things are dangerous, you end up forgetting what’s in there.”

“I clean mine out once a year or so,” Severus tells him, passing the bottle of wine back after taking a sip. “I’d recommend doing it somewhere spacious to avoid damages.”

Harry laughs, “did you have to learn that lesson the hard way?”

They look at each other, giggling a little, until Harry abruptly sets the bottle of wine aside and pounces on Severus, starts kissing him, deep and fond.

Severus kisses him back, slides his hands under Harry’s shirt, holds him close and tight.

“Fuck me,” Harry whispers in his ear, and all the relaxed languidness leaves Severus’ body. Harry keeps kissing him, insistently, until Severus remembers what they were doing.

“No,” he whispers back, “not today.”

Harry keeps kissing him, lets his hands find skin and hips find hips until Severus is engaged in the kissing again. “We’re not in a hurry,” he promises. Then he lifts off and kneels down next to Severus. Starts on the buttons. Severus’ waves his wand in an arching motion and Harry knows someone could be standing right next to them and they wouldn’t see them. He opens Severus’ robes and exposes pale skin to the light of the moon. He kisses his way down, helping Severus out of his trousers and pants. When he swallows Severus down with a groan of satisfaction, Severus arches his back, starts pulling at Harry’s clothes.

Trying his very best not to let go of Severus, Harry wriggles out of his clothes. Only when he has to pull his shirt over his head, he lets go of Severus’ cock with a wet popping noise. Even though no one can see them, it’s a thrilling feeling, to be naked under the sky. He gets his mouth around Severus again as soon as he can and listens to the happy noises Severus makes in response.

“What do you want?” Severus’s voice is hoarse, he’s playing with Harry’s balls with one hand and holding onto the blanket with the other. His hips are twitching. Harry tries to tell him he’s enjoying this very much without hurting Severus or letting go of his cock so it comes out as more of a ‘ngh mm ah’. Severus gets him anyway, pulls Harry closer by the hips, pushes him onto his side, shuffles around so he can lap at Harry’s cock.

It feels nice, but it’s distracting Harry from doing a good job, so he switches to licking and sucking at the skin of Severus’ balls. Enough to turn him on, not enough to get him off. Severus sucks at the head of Harry’s cock carefully, until Harry’s hips are bucking and he wants more. He pulls off and sits up.

“What?” Severus sits up too, worried and fluffy-haired.

Harry puts a hand on his chest and pushes him back down, kissing him gently. “I’m alright, just wanted to shift positions,” he kisses some more and Severus calms down. Harry sits back up, enjoys the sight of panting hard Severus. Flushes cheeks flushed chest. Shifting uncomfortably under the attention.

“You’re stunning,” Harry promises, petting soft skin, tracing scares and bones. “Gorgeous.”

Severus snorts and Harry leans closer, sits on his thighs. It lines up their cocks. “Beguiling, arresting, magnificent.”

“Stop,” laughs Severus, but he wraps his arms around Harry and pulls him closer still. The pressure feels wonderful and Harry makes some experimental hip movements. It makes Severus’ eyes flutter and he speeds up a little. Severus grabs around for his wand, finds Harry’s instead, and says _Accio lube_ , voice shaking. At least five bottles come sailing out of various pockets and pouches and they both laugh.

“Extra long-lasting?” Harry reads out the label of one. “Lavender scented?”

“I’ve been experimenting,” Severus admits, colour high on his cheeks, eyes glittering. Harry feels so _pleased_ that he pours out three different bottles between them. Starts grinding again.

“Was,” he pants, “was one of them warming?”

Severus shakes with silent laughter, even as his hips are bucking, “must be – some type of emergent property of the combination of – ”

“Potions, potions, potions,” Harry summarizes, pushing his hips in and out as he says it, it makes Severus gasp, so he continues at the same pace.

When Severus is close and Harry is closer, Severus holds Harry up by his hips, sets his feet down, and pushes in, in, in. Harry gasps and lets his forehead falls onto Severus’ shoulder, curls his arms around, pants into Severus’ neck until his stomach tightens and his foot cramps and he’s coming hard and shocking between them. Severus is shaking and coming before Harry’s done and satisfaction is palpable between them.

As they’re lying in each other’s arms, playing with each other’s hair, Severus shifts and mouths against Harry’s cheek.

“Sorry?” Harry whispers.

“I said,” Severus says, a little louder, “can we go back to our quarters now or are we doomed to wake up sticky?”

Harry laughs, turns to look Severus in the eye. “I’ll race you to the lake.”

“You’d lose,” Severus says, full of confidence. And Harry is off, cackling and screaming as Severus chases him down the muddy shoreline. He reaches the water first, and gets tackled into the water, where they lay muddy and panting and laughing.

“You’re a cheater,” Severus tells him, as they’re splashing each other.

“You too, except you’re bad at it,” Harry laughs, jumping away to swim in the cold water.

When they’re floating on their backs, holding hands and looking at the stars, Harry thinks of something.

“You knew what to do.”

Severus makes a noise. An ‘I’ll need more than that’ noise.

“When I was... sad. Couldn’t focus.”

“Grief,” Severus tells him. “You’re not alone, Harry.”

“Was it,” Harry swallows, “was it like this last time?”

Severus makes another noise, but this one Harry doesn’t know, so he looks over. His face is pinched as if he’s in pain. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. His eyes are black when he opens them. “In a way,” he says finally. “I kept busy, a schedule, did what was necessary. But my mind felt unclear, and my limbs felt heavy, and everything hurt. For a long time.”

Harry imagines having to go through all of it without Severus, and he looks at him again. “Thank you for being there.”

They do sleep outside, tangled up in each other. It helps Harry breathe just to think about it later. That they slept under the stars, naked under Severus' cloak, and were comfortable and safe.

 

The Saturday before his birthday, Harry creeps out of bed very early after staring at the ceiling for almost an hour. He fishes around in a secret compartment of his trunk, pulls out the tiny box, and goes to the living room to set it on the table. He’s making pancakes when Severus wakes up, is cutting fruit when Severus kisses his neck and puts warm hands under his shirt.

“What’s on the table?”

“A small parcel wrapped in golden paper,” Harry tells him.

Severus pinches a nipple, hard. “Brat.”

Harry giggles and turns around to kiss him. “Give me a hand getting all this to the table and you’ll find out.”

They sit, Harry pours out coffee, and Severus pick up the box carefully. Opens the paper slowly. Lifts the lid.

“Harry.”

“I assume you recognize the crest?” It’s a simple golden signet ring, with the Potter crest, small enough not to overwhelm Severus’ slim hands. Severus nods, and Harry takes the ring, slides it onto Severus’ ring finger.

Severus is quiet for the rest of the day as they work in the greenhouse and brew. When they go over to Remus and Sirius for dinner, Remus comments on the ring.

“You courting him?” He asks Harry when Severus gets a blank look on his face.

“He’s courting me, and I’ve been accepting the gifts, but I started answering this morning.”  
“Not sure that was a good idea,” Remus teases, “he looks like you broke him.”

Harry pets Severus’ hair fondly, but Severus is stuck until Edith toddles into the room. She makes a run for him and Severus lights up, twirls her around. Severus focusses on Edith for the rest of their visit and helps her grab this toy, make a drawing of that, walk here, slam there. When Edith starts fussing and crying, Remus disappears into the kitchen to fix her some dinner. Severus picks her up and holds her over his shoulder, humming softly as he bounces around. Harry feels his chest expand, takes a deep breath to look back at Sirius.

“I know the feeling,” he whispers.

“I suppose you do,” Harry whispers back, his eyes stinging. He’s so grateful they all made it.

 


	19. Year 7 - An Onion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Severus is quiet for the rest of the day as they work in the greenhouse and brew. When they go over to Remus and Sirius for dinner, Remus comments on the ring.
> 
> “You courting him?” He asks Harry when Severus gets a blank look on his face.
> 
> “He’s courting me, and I’ve been accepting the gifts, but I started answering this morning.”  
> “Not sure that was a good idea,” Remus teases, “he looks like you broke him.”"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe that this is almost done. I wrote 100.000 words like a possessed person and have been posting and editing for months, and now it'll be over. It's a good thing I have a lot of other stories going. The next chapter will be up soon, any loose ends you're still worried or just curious about?  
> Thank you for everyone who's been reading and commenting, you made all of this the easiest thing in the world to keep going with <3

The next morning, Severus is awake before Harry is, so Harry joins him at breakfast. Bitter coffee, plain toast for Severus. Eggs and bacon for Harry.

“Come,” Harry says when they’re done eating. “Get dressed, there’s something I want to show you.”

Severus looks at him oddly, but swoops into the bedroom. “Muggle clothes?”

Harry thinks. “Gardening clothes.”

The smile Severus throws his way has Harry beaming back. Nothing to be done when someone smiles at you like that. He Apparates them to Spinner’s End as soon as they pass the school wards, a little bit away from the house. Severus looks around, confused and a little worried. As if he got excited and will now be disappointed.

“Let’s go,” Harry tugs him to the front door, through the house. Into the kitchen. Out into the garden. Severus blinks and covers his face with both of his hands, shoulders crumbling. Harry conjures them a large, comfortable sofa. They sit down together and stare at acacia, agapanthus, ambrosia, aster. Severus touches a windflower carefully, smells the lavender.

“Really?” He points at the gloxinia.

“It may have been your hot chocolate,” Harry whispers, “but I’ve loved you since that first day.”

Severus chuckles, then sniffles a little. Harry kisses his hair and gets up to go make tea. He’s been spending enough time at Spinner’s End recently to know where everything is and to have the right kind of tea in stock. When he comes back with steaming mugs, Severus has taken off his shoes and is staring at the flowers, curled up into the sofa. It’s a sunny day, which really helps the mood Harry was trying to set.

“Did you do all of this without magic?” Severus asks him finally, long fingers wrapped around the mug. The ring makes a sound when it touches things and Severus seems a little startled every time.

“Notice-me-not charms,” Harry confesses, “hard enough to do this without you noticing that I was missing. I set them up on the windows of the house too, in case you needed to pick something up.”

“Haven’t been here in ages,” Severus looks around happily.

“Nicer like this, isn’t it?”

“Good enough to sell,” Severus nods.

“I’ve been thinking of hiring someone to do Godric’s Hollow.”

“Who’d live there?”

“Not sure, but I was going to offer it to Remus. If he’s not creeped out by the whole people dying thing, it would be a good place for holidays and they are doing us a favour by signing on for four years.”

Severus hums, staring at the blue sky. “They could have this one too. Black has made it clear that he doesn’t want Grimmauld Place back.”

“How come we suddenly have more houses than we know what to do with?” Harry laughs.

“Wait until I’m 40, then we’ll officially have more house than sense.”

“I’m still on for the orphanage thing. I’ve been thinking of letting ex-Hogwarts students stay in Grimmauld Place while they try to find something in London.”

“Ron and Hermione agree?”

“They do, they’ll be cleaning out the master bedroom for themselves in the coming month, moving in before they start in September.”

“I love it here,” Severus sighs, “it’s the first time I’ve ever felt that way about this house.”

Harry plays with his hair. “Hence the overload of lavender, I know it calms you down.” Severus looks at him, and Harry continues. “I’d also like to thank you again for the flowers you got me for my thirteenth birthday. I am only now truly appreciating how much work that was.”

“Still regretting not sticking around for Petunia’s reaction,” Severus mumbles.

“We could always tell her we’re getting married,” Harry suggests and they both laugh.

“Could we?” Severus asks, suddenly.

“Absolutely,” Harry promises, “after next week though.”

They sit for a long time in the morning sun, appreciating the butterflies and bees going from flower to flower. It’s oddly peaceful.

“Severus,” Harry asks as if it’s come to him suddenly. He knows that they’re both well aware of how long he’s been gathering the courage to say something.

“Harry.” Severus replies calmly, his head still on Harry’s shoulder.

“Is there anything you miss? About – about before?”

Severus hums thoughtfully, “I miss my N.E.W.T. class, I enjoyed having a handful of truly interested students and helping them further their understanding. I’ve been contacting some of those students to see if they’d be willing to take over from Slughorn.”

“I miss being told what to do,” Harry confesses into the silence that follows. It’s a surprisingly dark thing to say into the sunlit garden, but it feels like opening the shutters of a mouldy damp room. 

“I don’t,” Severus says, and Harry almost laughs. Of course _Severus_ doesn’t miss being told what to do. “But I used to.”

“Oh?” Harry bites his tongue to give Severus the space to talk.

“I think it’s a part of being an adult,” Severus muses, “one I wasn’t ready for on time.”

 

They lie in bed together that night. Sheets pushed to the bottom of the bed, both naked and sprawled out. Harry is playing with Severus’ left hand, kissing the fingertips, touching the webbing between his fingers, sucking on his pinkie.

“Do you not like fingers at all?”

“I love fingers,” Severus grins, his eyes are bright.

“You’re going to make me say it aren’t you?” Harry rolls his eyes. “Can I use fingers inside of you?”

Severus blushes happily and lets his voice soften, “I wasn’t kidding, I love fingers.”

“Then why?” Why haven't we been doing this all along, Harry means, but Severus gets it.

“I get a little,” Severus looks at Harry, nervous flickering of eyes across his face, “enthusiastic.”

Harry groans. “Please, please, let me find out what you mean by that.”

Severus gets that look, the _are you going to mock me_ look, where his jaw gets a little tense, his eyebrows a little squished. Harry rolls onto his side. “It turns me on _so_ much when you enjoy what I do, when you make little noises, loud ones too. Please I want to.”

A shy nod. Harry gets up on his knees, starts kissing Severus. “Let me roll onto my stomach,” Severus pants into the kiss. Harry backs off a little to give him space, kisses all the way down from Severus’ neck, along his spine. Summons the lube.

“Oh gods,” Severus groans, as Harry pours a bit of oil onto him. He’s grinding into the mattress already, panting into the pillow. Harry traces a finger down from Severus’ tailbone, loving the noises, the obvious pleasure. He slips his middle finger in, slowly and carefully, and Severus tries to control himself, take measured breaths.

“Let it go,” Harry tells him, soothing him with slow strokes of his free hand against the back of a thigh.

“More,” Severus whines, “more.”

Harry carefully works in another finger. He leans forward, keeping his fingers still to give Severus time to adjust. Kissing Severus’ shoulder, he whispers: “how much more?”

Severus turns his head to look at him, face all the way flushed. He moves his hips as if he can’t help himself.

“Another finger?” Harry whispers, and Severus pushes himself onto all fours in one long hard exhale. Trying not to move his fingers, Harry looks at Severus’. Red face, hanging down, long black hair sticking out everywhere, ribs going in-out-in-out.

“My whole hand?”

“Yes!” Severus cries, pushing back. “Never tried but yes, everything. Everything.”

Harry sits behind Severus, starts moving his fingers in and out slowly, pushing a little deeper every time. He curls his other arm around Severus’ leg and grabs his cock.

“No, I’ll...” Severus pants.

“You don’t want to?”

“I’d like to wait,” Severus stretches out on his hands, pushing himself closer to Harry.

Harry kisses him where he can reach, slowly, gently. He pushes in a third finger, carefully. More lube. Severus goes still.

“Alright?”

Severus hums, tries to speak, lets his upper body fall onto the mattress instead. Harry pets his back, long strokes. Severus shivers, hisses, “more.”

He looks gorgeous, Harry thinks, arms folded head turned to the side back stretched out. Heavy cock heavy balls hanging between his open legs, careful not to touch. Harry pushes in deeper, slow back and forth, deeper still.

“Harry I’m –,” Severus pants.

“Do I make you wait?” Harry offers, not sure if he can. He’s getting pretty desperate for relief himself.

“Please,” Severus whines, and Harry slowly pulls back his fingers until only the tips are in. Severus wobbles.

“On your back,” Harry suggests, taking his fingers out. Severus rolls over, putting his feet on the mattress, knees up. Rolls his face to the side like he wants to cover it. _Gods you’re beautiful_ , Harry thinks, petting a knee, a thigh, his stomach. When Severus’ breathing becomes just a little steadier and he looks at Harry again, he pushes two fingers back in easily. More lube. Third finger. Deep, slow movements have Severus bucking and gasping, twisting his head, digging his nails into his thighs. Harry wraps his lips around Severus, letting his bucking hips do all the work. He wraps his free hand around his own cock and strokes slowly, at the same pace as his other hand. Harry bends forward a little, taking Severus deeper, speeds up his movements. He can feel his orgasm build faster than expected. He throws his head back, moves the hand around his cock faster, keeps the fingers inside Severus still and comes shuddering and gasping. Allowing himself only a second to catch his breath, he wraps his mouth around Severus again, moves his fingers. Severus is staring at him, fingers twitching in the sheets. His hips buck up and he groans.

“Coming,” he moans hoarsely, and Harry feels it. Pulsing, shuddering, bitter.

“Harry,” he hears, wrapped up in the duvet, sticky and a little cold. He shifts closer to Severus. He sighs, can’t talk yet.

“Harry,” it’s a little panicky, so Harry looks up. Severus looks a little panicky too. “Was that alright?”

“Course it was,” Harry grins, smoothing back Severus’ hair. “What are you all tangled up about?”

Severus shakes his head. Harry sits up, piles pillows onto the headboard, leans back against them. “Come here,” he opens his arms, and Severus shuffles closer, wraps an arm around Harry’s waist, lets his head rest on Harry’s stomach. Harry pets his hair, untangling the knots carefully.

“Why are you so scared of what you want?” Harry whispers. “I’m of age, we waited for that. Both of us have life expectancies beyond ‘let’s hope Voldemort doesn’t find us’ these days. I love you, we’re going to be bonded and happy and together for as long as we can.”

“You’re so young,” Severus whispers, “and I’m selfishly happy that we’re together, but I wish you’d had a chance to explore too. I know myself so much better than you know yourself, and I want you to be you.”

“You’re worried I’ll become who you want me to be?”

Severus nods against his stomach. “Severus, I want that. You read fiction these days, you love snakes, you grow flowers I like, you wear clothes I think look good on you. I hope to one day know every story, everything about you, and to keep experiencing new things together.”

Severus wraps himself around Harry, long pale arms, long strong legs, endless soft skin. Harry slides down a little.

“If not for me,” he whispers, “you’d have never come to work at Hogwarts, you’d have travelled and explored and become the world’s foremost expert on obscure potions ingredients and native knowledge. Or something like that. We can hold each other back or we can push each other forward, be stronger together.”

Severus still doesn’t look like he believes him so Harry pushes on. “You could have been so many things, no one lifetime could ever be enough to fulfil all your potential. I could have been a Seeker, or an Auror, or maybe just a lay-about heir. I might’ve been happy as any of those things. I’m happy with who I’m becoming instead.”

Severus finally nods. They look at each other, passing thoughts of _warm_ and _happy_ and _desperately in love with you_. Harry slides down further, into Severus’ arms, wraps the duvet closer. He’s out like a light before he knows it and wakes up in exactly the same position, stomach growling, in the morning.

 

“Morning,” he kisses Severus, who pulls a face.

“You taste awful.”

“So do you,” Harry grins. “Let’s have breakfast.”

Dobby has set out the tray already, so it must be later than they normally wake up at. Harry fishes an envelope out of the secret pocket in his trunk and hands it to Severus who nearly chokes on his coffee.

“Don’t tell me you’re surprised,” Harry laughs. Severus just glares at him, opening the poem.

“Is that the Parseltongue script I tried to work out years ago?”

“It is. It’s not my poem, it’s the one from Duffy that made me buy that book for you.”

“ _Not a red rose or a – a soft and shiny heart,”_ Severus reads slowly. “ _I give you...”_ he frowns at the page, which looks adorable. “What’s this?”

“An onion,” Harry grins. “ _Soft_ with _shiny_ makes _satin._ Satin.”

“I’m sorry, I’m still stuck on the onion,” Severus gives him a strange look and Harry grins back.

Severus takes a while to figure out the rest of the poem, but when he does he pulls Harry into his lap. “ _Brat,”_ he hisses, “ _when did you do all this?”_

Harry grins, feeling very smug. “Wait until you see tomorrow’s thing. The poem was easy enough after that, even if the grammar was a little hard to sort through.”

He kisses Severus on his nose. “I love you.”

 

It’s a very hot day, so after working in the greenhouse for a bit, Harry insists they go swimming in the lake.

“I have two pairs of trunks, the castle is empty, please.” It takes the better part of an hour, but Severus is convinced finally when Harry puts on his swimming shorts and wraps himself in a bathrobe. Severus leaps from the window and Harry follows, still relying on levitation and cushioning charms. He’s getting alright at floating but isn’t exactly comfortable enough with his skills to test them from heights yet. Severus transforms into a crow in mid-air, flying to the lake faster than Harry can run. Harry watches him fly up, up, up, transform into a human again, and drop down as if in slow motion, arms wrapped around knees held tight, creating a great splash when he falls into the lake.

“You show-off!” Harry shouts from the side. He wades through gross plants touching him until it’s deep enough to swim, then crawls his way over to Severus.

“How close are you to understanding avian anatomy?” Severus asks, lazily floating on his back.

“Pretty close,” Harry tells him, “have been practicing the arms to wings thing you showed me since the others left. I’m getting kind of good at it.”

“Show me how you use your magic to fly?”

“From the lake?”

“Obviously,” Severus drawls, hovering above the water a little. Harry rolls his eyes and does the same.

“Higher,” Severus urges him, and Harry goes. Severus flies up too, and rolling around slowly, flying above, around, underneath Harry, shows him how to follow. Harry is far less graceful, but the idea of falling in the lake isn’t as scary as it normally would be, which makes it the perfect opportunity for practice. Severus goes first, flying faster and slower, higher and lower, trailing fingers through the water. Harry falls a fair number of times, but it’s fine, it’s a hot day, there aren’t students around.

“Show me your wings?” Severus asks him, as they’re lying on the shore to dry off in the sun. Harry thinks hollow bones, fused metacarpals, primaries, secondaries, coverts. He opens his eyes when he hears Severus gasp. His wings are huge, and perfect. He blinks at them and they’re gone.

“I think you’re ready for full transformation,” Severus tells him, shrinking down into a crow. He lets Harry touch him, feel his wings, feel his claws, touch his beak. He squawks once, and Harry puts him back down. Focuses on the animal, the crow, his soul. Harry feels the change, feels himself shrink, looks at Severus who is right in front of him. He tries to stretch his wings, and immediately becomes human again.

He laughs, falling onto his back, and Severus stretches out next to him. “Can I go show off to Minerva?”

“I think she’ll be coming out to yell at us soon,” Severus whispers back. “We’ve not exactly followed protocol.”

“Let me try again,” Harry grins and stands with his arms stretched out, imagining being a crow. The change is easier this time, and when he opens his eyes Severus is smiling down at him.

“Severus!” He cries, “I did it I’m a crow!” He hears his himself going ‘CAW CAW CAW’ and realizes that he’s still a crow as Severus rolls over laughing. He changes back and laughs with Severus until he has the hiccoughs.

Minerva doesn’t come out, she just shouts from a window. “Get in here! I’ll register you right now!”

“Oh noo,” Severus drawls, and Harry laughs so much he couldn’t get up if he tried. He spends the rest of the day driving everyone spare by turning into a crow and flying about every chance he gets.

 

The next morning, Harry wakes up stupidly early again. He cannot be bothered to wait, so he just fishes out the carefully wrapped package and tosses it on Severus’ stomach from across the room. Severus makes several grumpy ‘oompf’ sounds, before realizing what he’s holding.

“What lets you provide!” He grins, morning temper forgotten.

“Open it,” Harry nudges, sliding back in under the covers. Severus rips off the paper. The book is purple, with golden lettering on it.

“Excuse me? ‘Parseltongue for Bumbling Fools and Vapid Dunderheads’?” Severus frowns.

“It’s a working title, open it.”

Harry points to the first page, where it reads ‘Or maybe Parseltongue for beginners, becoming a Parselmouth, or some such. You choose. By Severus Snape and Harry Potter.’

“Harry,” Severus trails his name, then Harry’s, “did we write a book?”

“We did,” Harry smiles at him, “it’s in one of those editor books that you can change easily and that copy smoothly when you send it in to be printed.”

“We wrote a book,” Severus whispers, leafing through pages on pronunciation, tone, the grammar. Looking over his shoulder at the poem that's on his nightstand. Goes back to reading. How to read the book, how the script works. Harry and Hermione spent months trying to structure the knowledge logically, then Ron had read it and pointed out all the things that didn’t make sense. Hermione had researched what words people need to start learning a language so they’d included those.

“We could publish a complimentary dictionary if we want,” Harry suggests, “if there’s demand for it.”

“The Saviour writes a book with a Death Eater - this thing sells itself,” Severus pleased little smile belies his words. When he looks at Harry his eyes are shining.

Harry knocks Severus into the mattress and kisses him, loud and smacking, until he gets pushed off and tickled viciously. “Mercy!” He cries, and Severus finally stops. They’re both red-faced and panting and it’s time for breakfast or Harry might faint but _look at him_.

“Anyway,” he rushes, “please read it and let’s work through anything that needs to be changed and then publish it. If you want.”

 

“Let’s go out today,” Severus suggests, when he’s nibbling on toast and Harry is shovelling down eggs.

“Sure, where to?”

“I’m not sure, but we’ve not really been among people and existing in this vacuum is nice but hardly productive.”

“You think it’s time for one of our publicized dates?”

“Perhaps, but I was hoping for nice food and I know for a fact Diagon Alley doesn’t have any.”

“They will, it’ll just be a while until shops open back up. How about France?”

Severus laughs, “what about France?”

“Do they have a Diagon Alley and would the food there be tolerable,” Harry explains patiently.

“You know what,” Severus looks at him, head tilted, “they do and I think that’s a wonderful idea. Do you think you can Apparate that far?”

“We can do it in two steps, first to London, then to Paris?”

“If we’re stopping over in London I can do the second part so we can go straight to somewhere interesting rather than the Apparition terminal.”

“Settled then,” Harry grins, “help me choose what to wear?”

They get out of the castle pretty soon after that, Harry in trousers and a shirt with rolled-up sleeves, the boots he’d bought with Severus on their last trip to Diagon Alley, Severus in thin summer robes and slim trousers. New black oxfords.

“When’s the last time you went out without your arms covered?” Harry asks as they walk across the grounds to the gate.

“Probably 1977,” Severus bites his lip. “I work in the garden in t-shirts sometimes, and you’ve seen me of course.”

“It’s faded so much, you can only really see it if you know it’s there.”

“I spent a long time hating my arm Harry,” Severus blinks into the sun as Harry prepares to Apparate them both over to London. They’re away with a pop and stand in a side street of Diagon Alley for only a couple of seconds before Severus Apparates them across the Channel.

“Paris,” Harry grins, looking around. “It’s my first time out of the UK.”

“Hadn’t even thought of that,” Severus sighs, “come, let’s go sightseeing.”

They spend the morning at the Louvre, where Harry cackles at being allowed in for free. It doesn’t take him long to be completely overwhelmed but he does notice when someone uses their wand to conjure a chair.

“Severus!” He hisses.

Severus laughs, “the Louvre is closed on Tuesdays to Muggles Harry. It’s so the magical paintings can stretch their legs.”

“How much more is there to see? I think I’m about done,” Harry feels like sitting down and seriously contemplates conjuring himself a sofa.

“I think someone once calculated that it would take three years to see everything here, if you spend ten seconds with each artwork.”

“Alright, I get it,” Harry drawls, rolling his eyes. “We’ll never be done. Have we seen all your favourites?”

“Only missing one,” Severus promises, and drags Harry over to a mid-sized painting in a hall full of paintings. “The Bathsheba,” he whispers reverently. He tells Harry the story of Bathsheba and David, about Rembrandt, points out the warm colours, the loving painting of a body that’s familiar to the artist.

Harry leans into Severus’ shoulder and asks about the light, the fabrics, what was the world like when this was painted?

“We can go to Amsterdam on our next trip,” Severus promises. “There’s a museum in the house he used to live at and a lot of his work can be found throughout the city.”

“I’d like that,” Harry shuffles closer. Severus wraps an arm around his waist.

“Lunch?”

“Lunch.”

“Muggle and a little fancy alright?”

“Sure, take me there,” Harry grabs Severus hand, and together they walk outside of the wards of the Louvre. Severus Apparates them into an alley and they walk to a cosy and old looking restaurant. A waiter leads them to a table and talks to Severus in French while Harry squirms in his seat.

“ _What’s wrong?”_ Severus hisses under his breath.

Harry blushes, “ _so sexy when you speak French. Sorry.”_

Severus’ pale skin blooms pink and Harry smiles at him. If they were seen by anyone now the secret would be all the way out. There’s no explaining away sappy grins that light up your whole face.

“I told him to bring us the menu of the day, a starter and a main, and wine to suit. Is that alright with you?”

Harry nods, grateful for the change in topic. “Tell me how you know so much about Paris?”

Severus tells him about French potions masters, how his Mastery had been spent travelling back and forth between London and Paris, how his master had come out of retirement to teach him. Conferences across Europe, presentations and private tutoring in as many places as they could squeeze into four years.

“Where’s he now? Your master?”

“Master Martin died, six months after I finished.”

“I’m sorry, it sounds like you learned a lot from him.”

“I did,” Severus tilts his head, making space on the table for the dishes that are being brought in. “Onion soup for you, snails for me.”

“Snails?” Harry stares at Severus’ plate. “Can I try one?”

“Sure,” Severus smiles at him, putting one of the shells onto his plate, showing him how to use the little fork to get the meat out. It’s not bad, mostly garlicky, but Harry prefers his soup.

“Your Master, was he aware of...” Harry realizes half-way through that this isn’t really polite restaurant conversation and let’s his sentence die off.

“Of politics?” Severus gets a carefully blank look on his face, the kind where Harry can feel misery radiating out but no one else would ever suspect Severus was feeling anything at all. “He must have been. In four years of working with me he’ll have seen my arms plenty of times, we worked with enough ingredients that you cannot wear cloaks around. Merlin knows I burned through my fair share of clothing during that time. We only ever talked about potions though, and I know he respected my skill and understanding.”

“I’m so glad you had that,” Harry can’t help but smile. The waiter comes to take their plates, top up their glasses from the bottle.

“How do you mean?”

“A space where you were valued for your skill and talent, where you got to explore something you love. Away from _politics_ and the UK and Potters.”

“You marvel,” Severus looks at him fondly.

“Look, if you’re going to be blown away every time I show the smallest amount of understanding about what you’ve been through, we’re in for a life time of me not having to try very hard to keep you on your toes.”

Severus raises his glass, and Harry mimics him. “To kindness,” Severus whispers.

“To kindness,” Harry grins, clinking their glasses together carefully.

The rest of the day they walk around outside, visiting the Eiffel tower (I mean, it’s an interesting building?), the Sacre Coeur (now this one is pretty, can we go up?), the Notre Dame (where did all these people come from?). Around dinner time, Severus shows Harry how to pass into what looks like a residential building’s courtyard by walking through an arch painted onto a stone wall.

“British wizards are the only ones to appreciate a sense of humor about their hiding I take it?”

“Not really, in Copenhagen you have to jump off of a bridge, and in Berlin there’s a very strange statue of some bears you have to talk to.”

Harry laughs, “but the French are snobby?”

“They’re not the only ones to be, but yes. This is the arrival court, you can Apparate here as well,” Severus points to a cobblestone passage leading away, “that’s where the shopping streets lie.”

Harry grabs Severus’ hand, and together they walk out. It’s a beautiful area, clearly older than most of the broad Parisian streets they spent the day exploring. Much livelier than Diagon Alley these days. They poke around vintage stores and buy a few books before Harry’s stomach starts growling in earnest.

Severus takes his hand, “dinner.” Drags him to a restaurant with seats out on the sidewalk. He looks at Harry curiously. “Are you alright for fish?”

“Yeah,” Harry nods, “just anything at this point I think.”

Severus leads them in and greets a man behind the bar like an old friend. They chat while Harry has a look around. Inside it’s pretty empty, even if the outside tables were full. They’re lead to a table by the open doors to the street. The waiter Severus knows brings them a large plate of oysters and Severus shows Harry how to eat them.

“This is really good,” Harry sighs, taking a sip of his wine.

“I should hope so,” Severus looks at him, “some of the best oysters of the city with the perfect wine to accompany them.”

“No I mean this,” Harry waves at the table, then sort of around, “exploring, sitting together, getting to know this side of you.”

Severus grabs his hand on the table, and Harry squeezes back. Of course a camera flashes in that moment. A young witch looks at them with a wholly evil grin on her face. Severus motions for her to take a seat and negotiates with her in French until they shake hands and she leaves.

“And?”

“She works for le Baguette Quotidien, will leave us alone and only sell the one picture, accompanied by a small blurb on how we had dinner together in Paris and refused comment.”

The waiter brings over two steaming plates. “I got you the bream and myself lamb, let me know if you’d like to try or wish to switch.”

“I’ll try your lamb. Is the newspaper here really called the baguette?”

“Baguette magique means magic wand, it’s not about the bread.”

“Still,” Harry laughs, trying the fish. It’s perfect.

They get back a little late and Severus falls asleep almost immediately, an arm wrapped around Harry. Harry lies awake, thinking about what he chose to represent Severus’ family. He looks at Severus, who frowns even in his sleep, feeling impossibly close to him. Kissing the frown until it smoothens out, Harry traces Severus’ jaw. “I love you,” he whispers. “Hm hm hm hm,” Severus answers.

 

The next morning Harry waits until after breakfast to even bring the courting gift up. Severus is squirming in his armchair by the time Harry settles in his lap.

“We’ll have to Apparate for this one,” Harry explains. “No need to change.”

He Apparates them straight into the horrible gazebo. The garden looks better now, Harry has cut away a lot of the weeds and the horribly overgrown grass, cut back the hedges, cleared off the ivy. The house itself is the biggest change, painted shutters, cleaned bricks. The broken tiles on the roof have been replaced. Harry grabs Severus’ hand and drags him inside, where everything is gleaming and clean, recently painted and restored where necessary.

“How did you do all this?” Severus gasps.

“Well,” Harry grins, “I started in November, coming here on weekends to do bits at a time. Then one day Dobby followed me and we talked about how to fix it all up in time. He told me a lot of the house elves of Death Eaters were out of a job since their owners had their properties taken away and were thrown into Azkaban. So I sort of hired an army of house elves.”

Severus started chuckling at the mention of Dobby and is outright laughing when Harry gets to the army bit.

“Would you like to meet them?”

Severus nods, so Harry takes him down to the cavernous basement. The house has an enormous kitchen, even bigger cellars, and came with quarters for house elves that were dirty but liveable and are now really nice.

“So the plan of an orphanage has been abandoned in favour of a house elf sanctuary?” Severus grins. One of the house elves overhears and gasps: “We work here, sir!”

“Manny,” Harry smiles, “this is professor Severus Snape.”

“Professor, sir,” Manny bows.

“How many of you are currently here?” Severus asks Manny.

“46 sir, we are starting on the gardens last week.”

Severus looks at Harry fondly, and Harry shrugs. “They’re employed, room and board in exchange for maintaining the house and estate. Hermione and Manny fought over the contracts until they were both satisfied. They assure me they’ll have the house self-sufficient within a year, so I’ve set up an account for them to use to buy chickens and seeds and things for the garden.”

“And Gringotts is alright with all this?”

“All part of normal estate maintenance, Severus.”

“Hermione is truly terrifying,” Severus sounds proud.

They explore the house again, Harry tells Severus about the mix of Muggle and Wizarding building styles, shows him the secret passages he’s discovered, and they fantasize about what could be done with all this space.

“Home for children of awful parents during Hogwarts holidays,” Severus offers.

“Families of people staying at St Mungo’s.”

“Elderly Order members pension.”

“Pre-Hogwarts school for Muggleborns.”

“I think you might be on to something, like Sunday school to bring them up to speed.”

“In that case we’ll need math and science for the pure-blood children because none of them even believe we actually went to the moon.”

Severus cackles, “TVs in the common rooms would solve that easy enough though.”

“Is it ok? That I did all this?”

Severus wraps Harry up in his arms, pushes him out onto the balcony. They sit on the edge together and look at the gardens where a house elf is busy wrestling with long tangles of grass.

“Harry,” Severus tells his hair, “it’s perfect. It’s the best possible way to honour my family.”

“I’ve also,” Harry pulls free an envelope from his pocket, “asked a Muggle agency to research your father and find his family.”

“Did they find anything?”

“No,” Harry hands Severus the envelope, “they wanted more information, follow up if you like, I won’t be offended if you’d rather not.”

“Thank you,” Severus kisses Harry. He stuffs away the envelope and leaps off the balcony, turning in the air to become a crow. Harry is more careful than that, focusing on wings and claws and his beak before taking off to fly after Severus. He trusts himself not to fall if he turns human again, so he just follows Severus, through the wards, across London. They fly for what feels like hours, and Harry is well and truly exhausted by the time he sees the sea. Severus swoops down, landing on the edge of a long, empty pier. It’s in desperate need of some attention, but the view is magnificent. Harry looks around and lets go of his crow form. He lies down on his back on the concrete and pants.

“Was that too far?” Severus sounds worried, leaning over Harry.

“Not – not too far but I’ll be sore tomorrow I think.”

Severus smiles at him. Looks back at the water. “We went on a holiday here once, when I was a child.”

Harry stretches out his hand, and Severus joins him on the concrete. It’s chilly by the sea, but the sky is clear and sunny.

“Can I see your parent’s graves?”

“Only fair, I’ve seen yours.”

“Not to repay me, or for me to repay you. Because you want to or not at all,” Harry keeps his voice stern and stares Severus down until he nods.

They stare at the sky together for a while, catching their breaths, until Severus stands up smoothly and pulls Harry to his feet. They walk the length of the pier, go inside a small pub where they order fish and chips.

“Tell me about the holiday,” Harry urges, chewing on the last of his chips.

“Not much to say, dad won the trip gambling, we stayed at some cottage by the beach for a few days, it rained most of the time. I swam regardless. On the last day the weather was so clear we could see France.”

“Was it good?”

“So good,” Severus whispers, staring at his hands, “and 30 years ago at least.”

Harry leans across the table to push Severus’ hair behind his ear, to take his hand and kiss the palm. A hushed silence falls over the table next to them and Harry huffs.

“As if we needed a reminder of why we avoid crowds,” Severus smiles at him. It’s a little sad but Harry is proud of him for trying.

“Bigots,” Harry whispers, “and not a clue that their son is jealous of us.”

“He is leaking thoughts rather enthusiastically isn’t he? Unusual.”

“Do you want to go back to the castle and pick up some books and read on the roof of the Headmaster’s tower for a few hours?”

Severus throws him a look of desperate gratitude, gets up, throws some pounds on the table, and swishes out of the pub. Harry drops the pouch he keeps the Deathly Hallows in when he passes the table of bigots. The child can’t possibly know that it’s the wand pouch he got from Severus that’ll come when called, so he picks it up and runs after Harry.

“Sir! Your,” he looks at it, head tilted, “thing.” He decides, handing it to Harry.

“Thank you,” Harry smiles at him. “How old are you?”

“Eleven, sir.”

“Did you recently get a strange letter about a school?”

The boy looks at him, nose wrinkled. “Why?”

“I’ll see you in September,” Harry smiles, squeezes the boy’s shoulder, and follows Severus.

“Magical?” Severus asks.

“Never heard a Muggle leak thoughts like that.” Harry looks at him, “he starts Hogwarts in September. How’s that work for kids raised by Muggles?”

“Muggleborns are visited by Minerva and myself, we help them find their way to Diagon Alley and help the parents understand what they’re signing up for.”

“Hermione was visited by Dumbledore?”

“No,” Severus laughs and Harry has flashbacks to Dumbledore at Privet Drive 4, it was funny to see. “Dumbledore didn’t come along on these visits, it was Minerva’s job alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfair not to link you to [the poem](http://www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poetry/poems/valentine).


	20. Year 7 - Windflower Cottage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Harry leans across the table to push Severus’ hair behind his ear, to take his hand and kiss the palm. A hushed silence falls over the table next to them and Harry huffs.
> 
> “As if we needed a reminder of why we avoid crowds,” Severus smiles at him. It’s a little sad but Harry is proud of him for trying.
> 
> “Bigots,” Harry whispers, “and not a clue that their son is jealous of us.”
> 
> “He is leaking thoughts rather enthusiastically isn’t he? Unusual.”
> 
> “Do you want to go back to the castle and pick up some books and read on the roof of the Headmaster’s tower for a few hours?”"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter, and what a ride it's been! My first truly long story (like, Prisoner of Azkaban long). I really hope you'll like it, thank you for reading and commenting <3  
> Special thanks to [Lilian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilian/pseuds/Lilian) who simply refuses to let me not believe in myself. I'm in the Snarry fandom because of you, thank you for indulging me as I ramble and theorize.

They do spend the rest of the day reading on the roof until it gets cold and they get hungry. Harry reads the Art of War, Severus reads Parseltongue for Dunderheads. He has red ink and a quill but marks suspiciously little. Harry looks at it after dinner.

“Do you like it or is it too much to bother marking?” He asks suspiciously.

“It is really, really good, Harry. I find myself mostly wondering where you learned to write like that.”

“Elements of Style, of course. And like seven years of brutal feedback on all of my essays.”

Severus laughs. “Let’s hope Master Mehta is the type to prefer kind and constructive feedback.”

“I’d have no idea what to do with that,” Harry grins, crowding into Severus’ personal space. “Are you almost done for the evening?”

“Are you asking for sex?”

Harry nods happily. Severus leaves the room, robes fluttering and billowing, Harry runs after him. They face each other in the middle of the bedroom and Harry steps closer, unbuttons Severus, has his own clothes opened and tugged at and off.

They’re sitting on the bed on their knees facing each other, Harry has his hands on Severus’ thighs. “Would you...” he sighs, looks at Severus, “show me what you do?”

Severus looks alarmed, breathes shallowly. Lies down very slowly on the duvet.

“I could sit behind you, lean against the headboard,” Harry suggests. “Watch you.”

Harry joins him, lying down, grabbing his hands. “I’d like to see, Severus. You did say I could keep asking, but I promise I’ll stop if you want me to.”

Severus waves his hand and they’re under the duvet. Safe. “What if you change your mind,” he whispers, “what if it’s extremely unattractive? What if what I want is repulsive to you?”

“Severus,” Harry whines, kissing Severus’ palms, one, then the other, “nothing about you is repulsive. If I don’t personally want to do something that doesn’t mean it would affect my opinion of you.”

Severus wraps his arms around Harry’s waist, leans his head against his chest, and Harry sighs, plays with his hair, tangles their legs together.

“If I told you,” Harry murmurs, “that I want something that you find off-putting, or even amoral?”

“Wouldn’t change how I feel about you.”

“So?” Harry urges.

“I’d rather you find as few things as possible about me off-putting.”

Harry hums, it makes sense. He wriggles around a bit until he’s leaning against some pillows, against the hideous velvet headboard. He pulls Severus up to half-sitting and wraps the duvet around them both, kisses Severus’ neck as he touches his stomach, his thighs, his balls. It doesn’t take long for Severus to be panting, moving his hips, head thrown back.

“You like waiting?” Harry asks, placing both of his hands on Severus’ stomach, which twitches and rolls. He can feel himself strain against Severus’ back and works to keep his hips still.

Severus hums. “I’d like to make you wait, exactly as you like it,” Harry whispers. “I love watching you pant, watching you enjoy yourself. The thought of you making yourself wait turns me on so much.”

“How much?” Severus manages.

“I lie awake thinking about it,” Harry promises. “Can’t think of anything else sometimes. When I’m alone, I make myself wait, imagining it’s you.”

Severus gasps and turns his head to kiss Harry. Places a hand over Harry’s, then trails it down. Harry lets the duvet stay up, kisses Severus’ neck and shoulder instead. He switches sides to avoid the scars and bites down on Severus’ shoulder.

“Harder,” Severus pants. Harry obliges, careful to not break skin.

Severus summons the lubricant with apparently no more than a thought and pours it over his stomach, letting it drip down over Harry’s hand, down to the mattress. He closes it and sets it aside, spreading the oil over his skin. Harry can’t breathe.

“Could I,” he feels Severus’ hands move and gasps, “could I open the duvet so I can see better?”

Severus takes a moment before he nods and Harry kicks the duvet down so it only covers their feet. He is beautiful, pale stomach twitching, dark hair, legs spread. The lubricant is everywhere, and Severus is already pushing two long fingers into himself. Harry kisses his shoulder, right over the bruise, and Severus shivers. Takes his fingers out, holds both his hands up and places them carefully on his thighs.

“Is this how you wait?” Harry whispers, and Severus’ hands shake.

“Sometimes,” he breathes shallowly, “sometimes I - ”

Harry hums in his ear, pulls on the shell with his teeth a little. “You’re stunning like this, Severus, magnificent. Flushed skin, spread legs, so hard.” He trails gentle fingers over sweaty skin, causing goose bumps as he goes. Severus tilts his hips, turns his head, kisses Harry. Fond. Deep. Harry gets a good look at his expression which is scared and shy and very turned on.

“Show me,” he whispers. Severus holds up a hand and something flies into it, he shows it to Harry, who touches it carefully, then hands Severus the lubrication. It’s obvious what it is from its shape. Severus takes just a moment to spread the lubrication, then reaches over, long fingers slim hand, lets his head fall back, and takes a deep breath. Harry curses the angle he’s at.

When Severus lets out a high-pitched whine, soft and slow, Harry’s hips buck involuntarily. Severus returns both his hands to his thighs and turns around a little to look at Harry. Who licks his lips. Dark eyes, red cheeks, messy hair.

“Like this,” Severus whispers, “to have my hands free.”

Harry kisses him. “Can I?” Trails hands across Severus’ waist, one over his chest, the other over his stomach, down. He can barely stop himself from rubbing against Severus’ back, feels like his skin is on fire and he could burst any second.

Severus hums, leans back more, sticky hands, sticky stomach, trembling legs. Harry wraps his hand around Severus, another tugging on his balls. Severus’ hands move up to his nipples. Squeezing, pulling, twisting. Hips bucking set Harry’s hips off too, needy sounds make Harry’s breathing stutter.

“Stop.”

Harry stills his hands, Severus turns around in his arms, wriggles down the mattress, swallows Harry down in one go. Harry scratches his shoulders, groans and whines, pants.

“More... Severus, oh - ”

Hot heat wet sucking pull and Harry comes, long hissed breath. He falls back into his mountain of pillows, stomach up down up down as he gasps for air. Severus looks unbearably smug and ruffled, and Harry pulls him up for a kiss.

On his knees, slotted in as close as he can, Harry’s legs wrapped around loosely, Severus cups Harry’s face and kisses him. Sticky hands, heat, sweat. Harry reaches up, strokes his back, sits up a little to trail hands down lower, cup Severus’ arse. Fingers moving around the toy. Further, tracing down and in, just a little pushing and tugging. Severus chokes and wheezes against his mouth, tries to keep kissing.

“Alright?” Harry asks, placing one hand on Severus’ chest, the other around his neck. Severus nods, noses bumping together. Harry uses the hand on Severus’ chest to push him, the other to guide him down, until he’s flat on his back, knees bent legs to either side.

“You’re so flexible,” Harry whispers against Severus’ lips, hovering over him, hands on his hips.

“I stretch,” Severus whispers back. Harry grabs his knees, fingers at the back, pulls them up carefully, lets them fall open.

“Stop me, if you want,” he tells Severus, then kisses his way along Severus’ sternum, stomach, navel. Licks at him, twists the toy. Severus’ hands are claws in the sheets, his toes are curled. Stomach fluttering. Moaning harshly when Harry sucks. The noises he’s making are different from before, come from deeper, sound louder. Harry sucks and twists and Severus cups his face, endlessly gentle.

“Does that mean stop?” Harry asks, between licking.

“Warning you,” Severus gasps and Harry bows down again. Sucking, twisting.

“In and out, please, please,” his voice is hoarse, his face scrunched. Harry pulls carefully, all the way out. Slowly all the way back in.

“Shallow. Faster.”

He moves the toy in and out, short bits, while Severus digs into the sheets harder, thighs cramping, panting, panting.

“S – stop.”

Harry pulls off, lets go off the toy, soothes stressed thighs, clenching stomach, as Severus twists his face in pain or confusion. Harry kisses a knee, rubs his face against the inside of a thigh, traces the soles of Severus’ feet with careful fingers. Slowly, Severus stretches his fingers out, places his stretched hands on the sheets, flat. Breathing slowing down. Harry laps at his balls carefully. Pushes Severus’ legs up, pillow under his hips.

“May I?”

“Depends.” It comes out harsh, half-laughed. Harry let’s his tongue trail lower, laps at the edges of the toy. Severus makes an unattractive choked noise and Harry pulls away.

“No?”

“Very much – yes, please, yes.”

Harry chuckles, marvels at the goose bumps on soft wet thighs, goes back to licking around the toy. Severus holds his knees, keeps himself spread, wet sobbing noises groaning all pleasure.

“Going to,” Severus manages. “Want to.”

Reaching around to wrap a hand around Severus, Harry keeps licking, sucks a little at twitching soft tender skin, pulling slow and steady. Speeds up when Severus whines and arches his back. It doesn’t take long at all before Severus is scrabbling twitching coming, his stomach, his chest.

Harry sits up slowly, holds Severus’ hips sitting between his legs. Whispers against his knee. _Love_ and _beautiful_ and _trust_.

When Severus’ breathing slows down and his face relaxes slowly, Harry lies down next to him, gathers him up in his arms, pulls the duvet over. _Safe_ and _warm_ and _love_ , Severus whispers against his collarbone. Harry plays with long hair lean back sweaty skin.

“Can’t know if I like it too until you ask,” Harry whispers, “think of all the time we could be wasting not doing things we both want.”

“Keep thinking,” Severus breathes, eyes still firmly closed, “this’ll be the thing we disagree on, this will be where we’re not compatible.”

Harry giggles, “we disagree on plenty Severus, or have you forgotten how I feel about potions that take longer than two hours to brew?”

“Booring,” Severus drawls sleepily, but he’s smiling. It’s a fair imitation of how Harry sounds and they both know it.

 

The next morning Harry simply places the envelope on the table while Severus is in the shower. He waits for Severus to be done showering, dressing, dawdling, stares at the envelope the whole time. Severus sits down opposite him, and Harry slides it his way.

“What’s this?”

“Open it,” Harry grins, but he knows it’s a poor attempt. He’s nervous about this one.

“Harry.” Severus warns, reading through the stack of papers.

“All of them, as my equal, my partner.”

“How can you?”

“It was rather easy, the goblins were most helpful after I returned some stolen goods. What’s more important is that I wanted to.”

“It’s so much money,” Severus frowns.

“I know.” Harry still isn’t quite sure what Severus is going to say. Severus looks up and reads his face.

“Harry, it’s a wonderful gift. Thank you very much.” He moves his chair back a little and Harry leaps over the table to sit on his lap, to be wrapped in strong arms.

“Never expected - ” Severus starts.

“Kindness.” Harry finishes for him. “Trust, acceptance. I know you, Severus, and I love you.”

“And I you,” Severus calm hands soothe Harry’s nerves. “Our vaults.”

“Third set of papers is for joining the vaults, which I’ll understand if you don’t – ”

“Oh, I do. I’ll sign them all today.”

The heat is stifling all morning and just after lunch the storm finally comes. Harry and Severus sit curled up in front of the window, looking at the lake, whipping trees, purple sky, pouring rain. It’s a good day.

 

In the evening, Edith gets dropped off by a grinning Remus, dressed up for date night.

“Thank you for doing this,” he says to Harry, who is trying to keep Edith from escaping his arms. She’s already in pyjamas even though it’s only just past dinnertime.

“It’s no trouble,” Harry promises, “Severus is going to bake cookies with her I think.”

“As long as you return her clean and in working order,” Remus laughs, and he waves at Severus before leaving. Edith notices Severus too now and makes a run for it after finally breaking free from Harry’s arms. She’s enthusiastically babbling at Severus within seconds and he chatters back while carrying her to the little kitchen.

Harry cleans up the living room and baby-proofs the fire, before joining them in the kitchen. The oven is pre-heating, Edith is standing on a chair in just her diaper and a far-too-large apron while Severus is rolling out the dough and explaining to her how to use the cookie cutters. Harry takes a couple of pictures before stepping in beside Severus and rolling up his sleeves. Severus smiles sweetly at him and returns the favour after washing his hands, so that Harry can help Edith get the cookies onto the baking tray.

“Me too,” Edith demands, holding out her arms, and when Harry just stares at her in confusion, Severus steps in to pretend to roll up her sleeves.

“Silly Edith,” Harry grins when he understands what just happened, “you’re not wearing sleeves!”

She giggles and demands he helps her by changing the boring heart-shaped cookie cutter into one that’s a unicorn.

 

When Edith has had another bath and is wearing her pyjamas again, Severus sits in his chair with her in his lap and a blanket around them both and reads her her favourite book three times before she finally falls asleep. Harry looks at him fondly as he hands Severus a mug of hot chocolate. “They should be back soon, then you can move again.”

Severus looks down at Edith, who is fast asleep and drooling a little. “I don’t mind overmuch.”

Harry sits down in his own chair and shuffles it a little closer so he can push his feet in between Severus and the chair. Where it’s warm.

“Should we talk about tomorrow?”

Severus shakes his head no. Looks worried and a little nauseous, one arm protectively around Edith.

“When would you have told me?” Harry nudges him with his foot, “if I hadn’t figured it out?”

“Today, I suppose,” Severus is staring into the fire. “I wouldn’t want to tell you after – or, or at the cottage.”

Harry nods his understanding, and Severus continues, so low he can barely hear it. “I kept waiting for it to click, waiting for you to realize what I was doing and fight me on it.”

“For me to reject you.” Harry leans forward to take Severus mug away and hold his shaking hand between his own hands.

“Yes,” it comes out as a tired and worn sigh.

Edith snuffles and Harry kisses the palm of Severus’ hand. “Do you want to know when I fell in love with you?”

“I thought it was my hot chocolate?” Severus lifts an eyebrow and Harry is proud of him for trying to find humour in his misery.

“Your hot chocolate made me love you. I fell in love during a Potions class.”

Severus looks pleased and intrigued so Harry continues. “You were explaining about figure-eight stirring, how it allows you to align magical properties without stirring plants counter-clockwise too much. And I noticed your hands.”

Severus’ eyes flit towards the hand that Harry is still holding, and Harry pets the ring with his thumb.

“It hit me like a... like a charging hippogriff. How your hands were slender and graceful and the look on your face was reverent and careful and you kept your voice low and how you kept everyone’s attention on you without you needing to be flashy. It felt like it was just us in the room.”

“Was that when,” Severus swallows and blushes, looks away, tries again, “when you were – you flinched.”

Harry laughs a little. “Yes. I couldn’t remember how to behave around you, didn’t know how to deal with being touched and not held, didn’t know how to speak, where to look.”

“How did it fade?”

“Oh Severus,” Harry kisses his palm again, “it never faded. I complained to Hedwig about it every night, hidden under my cloak and privacy spells until I learned to enjoy the panic, the butterflies. I’m vulnerable but you’ve never hurt me.”

They’re quiet until the knock on the door sets them into automatic motion, handing Edith and a plate of cookies back to a red-faced Sirius. They fall asleep wrapped around each other.

 

Harry wakes up on his birthday to a pile of presents, a tray of breakfast, and a terrified Severus. He’d planned on staying up past midnight to be awake for the actual beginning of his birthday but there’d been warmth and strong arms and Severus and he’d been out like a light.

“Stop shaking for long enough to have your cup of coffee with me, will you?” Harry teases mildly, patting the bed on Severus’ side.

“Happy birthday,” Severus croaks, handing him his tea. He does join Harry, sitting down carefully, leaning back against the headboard.

“Thank you.”

Harry unwraps his presents from Ron (Molly approved cookbook) and Hermione (something very theoretical about Defence) first, while eating, then turns to put the plate and mug away. There’s a stack of books signed as ‘from Edith for her godfathers’ (‘How to be a Godfather’, ‘Taking Care of Little Ones’, ‘GREATfather’) that seem to have belonged to Sirius and make Harry choke up a little. Severus helps him work his way through his presents, setting aside the ones addressed to the Saviour, the Hero, the Boy Who Lived. Alcohol from Minerva, cake from Hagrid, edible cake from Molly, and many cards.

“I’ll go first,” Harry tells Severus, pulling him closer, summoning a rectangular parcel. They’re both in their pyjamas, Severus’ hair is pulled into a messy bun. Harry pulls the duvet around them and sinks into the pillows, grabs Severus’ hand.

“What is it?” Severus traces the parcel’s wrapping.

“Go ahead,” Harry smiles. Severus opens it carefully, smiling as a picture of him with Edith on his hip, Harry next to them trying to convince Edith to wave at the camera and failing miserably is revealed. They’d been at the lake together that day, playing in the sand. The picture shows them stepping around each other, Harry looking at Severus fondly, Severus grinning at him. The good kind of grin. Happy and real.

“So, the 6th courting gift is something to represent the family, right?” Harry starts. “I don’t have much family beyond this,” he taps the picture. “The vaults were symbolic in a way, making you a part of my family officially, and this picture is along the same line of thinking. You started this courting, six years ago. Normally, accepting the gifts means to accept the courtship. To embrace the courtship, you court back. I started courting you this week and to break tradition, I will finish first.”

Severus leans his head on Harry’s head and sighs, happy, shuddering, deep. Harry takes his hand. “We have houses enough. My home is you, Severus.”

Severus sighs again, shaky.

“Help me out here,” Harry nuzzles closer, “I’ve accepted loads of gifts from you, you’ve accepted mine, we’ve consummated the bond _several_ times.”

“Should I check if it’s complete?” Severus’ voice is hoarse. Harry nods, knowing Severus will feel it. Severus waves his wand, bright green, soft purples fill the room.

“Like the northern lights,” Harry whispers. “Uni animi sumus.”

“Uni animi sumus,” Severus whispers back. The lights swirl and dance around them. Appropriate, Harry thinks, to do this here, in pyjamas, in bed.

They sit together, huddled up in the duvet, until Harry needs to use the bathroom and Severus wants to shower and get dressed so they unfold and untangle and try not to look at each other. It would be too intimate.

When they’re both dressed, Dobby brings a picnic basket. “For the sirs.”

“Thank you, Dobby,” Severus tells him, “to what do we owe this pleasure?”

“It’s to celebrate the start of your engagement,” Dobby looks at Severus like he would a confused child, and Harry can’t help but laugh.

“Thank you, Dobby,” he says, shrinking the basket and putting it away. He grabs Severus’ arm and steers him out of the castle. It’s so wonderful to hold hands when they’re walking around like this. The castle is empty enough that they probably won’t bump into anyone and even if they do it’d be likely to be someone that already knows.

“What are you so worried about?” Harry asks as they’re walking across the grounds.

“I’m not worried,” Severus bites out.

“Alright, tell me what’s on your mind then?”

“You’ll see what I’ve spent years on, over a decade. It’s been yours since you were a child I checked for injuries while hiding under a Disillusionment Charm.”

“You’re exposed,” Harry says, still feeling the high of watching a physical manifestation of how Severus and he are the same, on some level.

“Vulnerable,” Severus adds.

“No pretending it doesn’t affect you, that you don’t care.”

Severus nods. “It’s exactly how I want it to be and I can only hope you’ll like it as much as I do. I  _love_ it. No part of it is unfinished, except where there’s space for your things.”

“Severus,” Harry turns to look at him, holds his hand firmer, “the cottage is to be our home. Homes are never done, they’re ongoing projects. If we find we prefer the knives in the middle, rather than the forks, then we’ll change it. If the way the pictures hang doesn’t let the ones we love the most shine, we’ll change it. If we decide a tree needs a swing, we’ll get one.”

Severus nods. Kisses him.

“We’ve passed the wards,” he whispers, and Harry nods too. He knows. Severus wraps him up in a tight hug and Apparates them both away.

The cottage is, of course, perfect. They Apparate into a hidden clearing off a footpath in a dense forest and walk the 200-or-so yards to the road, then another minute past hidden white-plaster-black-wood cottages to a thick hedge with an iron gate, big enough for two people but not for a car. After yesterday’s rain everything smells fantastic and looks greener than could possibly be natural. The plot is on a hill, the road the lowest part of it. From the gate, Harry can see the garden stretch out and up, noticing the greenhouse in the corner, the apple trees to the side, endless waving flowers under a bright blue sky. Fitting in neatly with the other houses, the cottage is dark wood and light plaster. The tiles on the roof are dark too but the window frames have been painted white.

“Is that the forest?” Harry points at the trees behind the cottage. Severus nods.

“The garden faces south, and so do most of the windows. The back of the house is rather dark between the forest and the north-facing windows. It’s where the kitchen is, as well as the upstairs bathrooms.”

“Show me?”

Severus takes his hand, together they walk up the steps to the top of the garden. Handing Harry a keyring with several keys that Harry knows belong to hard-to-pick locks, he tries to smile.

“Mine?”

“Yours,” Severus nods.

Harry opens the front door to a cheerful tiled hall, a coat rack with cloaks and robes on one side, a low bench with shoes and boots under the seat across the wall. Severus sits down and takes his boots off, placing them underneath where he’s sitting and Harry does the same. The tiles feel pleasantly cool under his socks.

“Original,” Severus explains, his voice sounds off. “The tiles I mean. Most of the woodwork too.”

“The dog rose outside?”

“I planted it.” Severus looks over his shoulder as if he could see the pink flowers through the wall. “Not even for the meaning, just because I like how they look and how the rose hip tastes.”

Harry grins. “Good enough reasons I think.”

Severus leads him through a door into a cosy room. Hardwood floors, dark beams of the ceiling exposed.

“Reception room,” he says. There’s bookshelves along the wall, a space to sit under the window, a large table in the middle of the room. “I have some thoughts about paintings that we could hang around here, but I wanted to discuss it all with you first.”

Harry nods, trying to take it all in.

“Living room,” Severus points, leading Harry through a door to a smaller space with a large fireplace and bookshelves everywhere. There are cosy sofas and armchairs facing the fire, and a long desk stands under a window. Long enough to fit two chairs. A beautiful carpet sits in the middle of the room, dark red with patterns of cream and green and blue. Harry stands on it, wriggling his toes, and looks at Severus.

“Come here,” Harry tugs Severus’ hand so they stand together in the middle of the carpet.

“The kitchen,” Severus tries, but Harry holds him closer, starts the LP player he’s spotted. Violins and piano, good enough.

“I love it,” Harry whispers, as they sway together quietly, and Severus sighs, lets his head fall down onto Harry’s shoulder. “Where’d you get all this furniture?”  
“That armchair,” Severus nods, “I found in an empty classroom at Hogwarts. Most of it I bought at auctions or at second-hand stores. The seat in the window I had made.”

Harry leans in. They’re both quiet as he tries to look at everything, see what Severus has done and what’s been a part of the house for over a century.

“The kitchen,” Severus tells Harry, grabbing his hand and spinning him, “is all new. The last owners neglected it in the worst way. The old stove was beautiful but very damaged and the rest of the room was covered in soot. I tried to salvage the stove but ended up donating it to a nearby museum.”

“Sounds great.”

“I did try to show you,” Severus smiles, the first happy one of the day. His breathing is calm and normal now.

“Let’s go.”

Severus tugs him back into the reception room, through another door into the kitchen, which is a beautiful bright space. Light walls and cupboards, dark countertops. Severus points out the downstairs bathroom, under the stairs, the small table they can eat at when they don’t have people over.

“Why is this empty?” Harry points at a cabinet.

“It’s for china,” Severus shrugs, “the nice china is in the vault. Yours or mine, really.”

“Ours,” Harry grins. “You signed the papers and they have been posted.”

Severus smiles at him, “I’m just glad I saw the collection of cast iron pans you’ve inherited before I spent half my kitchen budget on them.”

“Was that,” Harry steps closer, “a happy side effect or a reason for going to the vault?”

“The reason was the keys.” Severus draws Harry closer to the window overlooking the garden. “I put a copy of the keys to this place on there that day.”

“What’s through there?” Harry points at the last door they haven’t gone through. They’re leaning against each other, staring at the waving flowers buzzing bees.

“Utility room, coat rack, place for wellies, cleaning things. Laundry machine and dryer.”

“Oh thank god,” Harry sighs. “I’m rubbish at laundry spells.”

Severus chuckles. “And those horrible laundry sinks that you have to light a fire under.”

Harry shudders, “awful. The Weasleys have one of those, I always save my clothes for when I can give them to the house-elves when I stay over.”

“Glad we agree.”

“Can’t believe you put bookshelves in the kitchen,” Harry giggles, looking at the wall behind the breakfast table.

“They’re all kitchen appropriate books,” Severus promises, “cookbooks and stories, nothing so scholarly as to ruin your appetite.”

“Ran out of space, did you?”

Severus nods. “I’m glad the headmasters quarters have absurd amounts of space for books, it’d never fit otherwise.”

“Considering we have the vaults to.”

“The Black library.”

“Let’s go see upstairs.”

Taking his hand, Severus drags him through the reception room to the stairs, which are lined with waving pictures. One from Christmas, one with Edith, one Hermione must’ve taken of the two of them bent over a book on the floor at Grimmauld Place. Harry stares at them all.

“There are two bedrooms. I’ve been using the smaller one because it has an attached bathroom, the larger one has a separate bathroom and I thought we could keep it for guests. It’s where the linen closet is.”

Harry peeks into the separate bathroom, nods, then steps into the larger bedroom. It has a simple iron-framed bed, gorgeous carpet, wooden furniture, a comfortable chair and shelves filled with books. Severus takes his hand and they walk across the landing to the smaller bedroom. It’s immediately obvious why Severus chose it. The low ceiling creates a comfortable space, there’s a corner that Severus placed a seat in, some bookshelves and space for clothes and an enormous four-poster bed.

“Came with the house,” Severus croaks. “The bed. Nobody knows how they got it up here or how we could get it down without breaking it. It only fits in the room like this, everywhere else the ceiling is simply too low.”

Harry looks at it. Mahogany, seems like. New curtains, clearly well-made. Probably a new mattress as well.

“It’s absurd, of course,” Severus waves at it, “might be older than the house, very strange choice for whoever put it here, makes no sense with the financial means of the sort of person that’d build a house like this. If it’s too much we could get rid of it, buy something that doesn’t take up as much space. The man who came to refurbish the wood said the carving was oddly elaborate.”

“You love it.” Harry looks at Severus, nervous, fluttering.

“Pardon?”

“It’s odd and enormous and you love it.”

Severus makes a strange face, apologetic. “I do, I really do.”

Harry tugs him down onto the bed. Definitely a new mattress. Still smells like cardamom and cinnamon though. They look at the canopy together. Sky blue curtains. Matching spread over crisp white sheets.

“Are you - ”

“Processing,” Harry turns his head to look at Severus.

Severus sits up, his hair is fluffy from lying down and he paws at it a little. “I was hoping,” he blushes. “That after today perhaps you’d consider wearing the ring.”

“As a ring?” The ourobouros has been a necklace to Harry for a long time. Severus nods.

“Unless of course, you’d prefer not to.” His voice is cracking.

“Severus,” Harry touches his fingers to Severus’ face, “talk to me.”

Severus reaches out to Harry’s neck, fingers shaking, takes off the necklace. Shuffles so they’re both sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed while fidgeting with the opening of the chain. When he finally gets it, he lets the ourobouros fall into his palm, takes Harry’s hand, and looks at him.

“Marry me,” he croaks. “Please marry me.”

Harry nods and smiles and helps Severus put the ring on his finger when it shrinks to fit. The tingling in his spine returns. He laughs and kisses Severus and says ‘yes yes yes’ over and over.

When they’re lying down, wrapped up in each other, Severus feels under the pillow for a wrapped parcel, heavy and about the size of a large but thin book. When Harry opens it it’s a simple glazed sign. ‘Windflower Cottage’.

“The east,” Severus starts, then coughs to clear his throat, “the whole east wall is windflowers. They blossom late so it’s not so obvious now but – ”

Harry rolls around to kiss Severus. It shuts him up.

“Tell me about how the ring was passed down in your mum’s family.”

Severus makes a strangled noise, takes Harry’s hand gently, and twirls the ring around. “I really was hoping you’d forgotten about it.”

“You know me better than that,” Harry tugs Severus closer.

“The story goes,” Severus wraps his arms around Harry. Cinnamon and cardamom, warm and present. “That when the Prince’s first ancestor was ejected from the throne, tossed out of his home country for his faith, that he brought only enough money to feed himself. All his riches left behind, apart from the clothes on his back and this ring. He travelled and roamed and found a sorceress who he fell deeply in love with. She accepted the ring and became his wife and as they had children, and their children had children, the eldest was given this ring upon reaching majority to be able to find and propose to their one true love. It uses the magic of the wearer so it didn’t fit my father and he never wore it. Every wearer, every giver, every person to have held it has imbued it with protective magic, good intentions, love for their family.”

“It’s a beautiful story.”

“It’s probably only half of the truth.”

“All the best stories are,” Harry grins. “So why did you give it to me at the ripe old age of twelve?”

Severus blushes. “I sat by your bed for three days after you first faced Voldemort, desperately wishing I’d had some way to protect you, to keep you safe. You had nightmares all the time, but you calmed down when I held you, and then the ring kept sliding off. I’d worn it for so long I’d forgotten its purpose. Wanted to take you here on your 18th birthdays for as long as I’d known it was you. I had a ring and a house, and planned everything else in between.”

“No wonder you were so pissed when I arrived at school in that flying car.”

“Right before I gave you the best protective magic I could, yes. Also, you have no sense of self-preservation.”

“I do these days,” Harry kisses Severus. “Before I run into danger I think ‘what’d Severus do to me if he found out I didn’t tell him and didn’t have a plan’.”

“I’m supposed to be glad that the only reason you’re not dead is because you know I’d find a way to make your regret it in death?”

“Yeah,” Harry laughs. “Kept me from going to the Ministry myself in fifth year.”

Severus pushes him onto his back, lies on top of Harry. _Good heavy_.

“When were you going to tell me what you were doing?”

“I knew you’d figure it out, I just – I didn’t expect it to be at thirteen.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Brought us here didn’t it?” Severus kisses Harry. Soft and sweet. “I couldn’t regret anything that has contributed to bringing us here, to this ridiculous bed on your birthday with two dozen or so Weasleys planning your birthday party frantically while I promised Ronald to keep you busy during the day.”

“My surprise party?” Harry laughs.

“Oops,” Severus drawls sarcastically. “We’ve about six hours before we have to be there.”

“Lunch and then the garden, I think.”

“Maybe some sex.”

“If we can squeeze it into our busy schedules.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the details of the courtship. The way I see it is half nursery rhyme, half serious tradition. It has seven steps and would be normally done over a week, as Harry did it, or spread out over seven meetings between the intended couple (I'm having visions of visitations in the reading room and frilly dresses and top hats, but that's just me). It used to be a way for a couple to get to know each other, and the reciprocating party could choose to return one gift, traditionally the ring, or also gift seven times. Severus went above and beyond in both length of courting, and the magnitude of the gifts, Harry chose to focus his attention on two and four. Although a fair bit of was involved in the family things too.  
> Anyway, it's quoted a few times in the fic, but here is the whole rhyme as I see it.
> 
> First I present you with a ring,  
> To declare my intentions for our coupling
> 
> Second come these flowers fine  
> Their meanings equal to mine
> 
> Third I tell you, in song,  
> What was in my heart all along
> 
> Fourth I make what lets me provide  
> My work, my labour, my pride
> 
> Fifth brings, in three,  
> My understanding of your family
> 
> Sixth I tell you what you might become  
> By sharing my family’s custom
> 
> Seventh and last, with nowhere left to roam,  
> I gift to you, our home
> 
>  
> 
> Do let me know if anything is inconsistent or you have questions or concerns! I love talking about this fic, as some of the commenters have noticed already :)
> 
> As a last bonus, my works cited:  
> [For the flowers and their meanings](http://www.allflorists.co.uk/advice_flowerMeanings.asp)  
> [The cottage was modeled after this](http://www.rightmove.co.uk/property-for-sale/property-50585742.html)  
> All of the Harry Potter Wikia, Lexicon, Pottermore, Tumblr, for references to and interpretations of canon.


End file.
